


Two Brothers

by RenkonNairu



Series: Cost of a Crown [1]
Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prequel, Canon Het Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Not a ship fic, Pre-Canon, Quest fic, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: Keldor and Randor are two Princes, worrying after their father, King Miro, who's health is failing. Keldor goes searching Eternia for powerful magical artifacts to heal him, and along the way meets Beastman, Mer-Man, Trap Jaw, Evil-Lyn, etc. Meanwhile, with Miro ill and Keldor gone, Randor has to run the planet and he gets his first taste of what it's like to be King.
Relationships: Evil-Lyn/Keldor (He-Man), Keldor & Beastman, Keldor & Mer-Man, Keldor & Miro (He-Man), Keldor & Panthor, Keldor & Randor (He-Man), Keldor & Trap Jaw, Man-At-Arms & Randor (He-Man), Marlena/Randor (He-Man), Randor & Miro (He-Man)
Series: Cost of a Crown [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047130
Comments: 43
Kudos: 12





	1. The Situation Thus Far

“Thank you, Your Highness, thank you…” The petitioner kept bowing. Walking backwards and bending at the waist to punctuate every declaration of gratitude. 

Sitting in an unnecessarily decadent chair next to the throne, not sitting in the throne itself, Prince Keldor resisted the urge to reach a hand up and massage his temples. His tension headache had been building through the last three petitioners, but he refused to acknowledge it. As a half-Gar growing up in the court of Eternos, he learned not to show his weakness at a very young age. 

Unlike his brother. 

Sitting on the other side of the throne, in an equally decadent chair was Keldor’s younger brother, Randor. They were both of them filling in for their father, the King, whom had taken ill and was confined to bed. Keldor, however was taking their duties as acting rulers much more seriously than his brother. 

Randor was asleep in his chair on the dais. 

One arm propped up on the armrest of the chair, head resting in his hand, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a bit of drool dripping onto his knee. At least he wasn’t snoring. Randor might not be an elegant sleeper, over even a subtle one, but at least he wasn’t a disruptive sleeper. Keldor could conduct the petitions in peace. 

“Does anyone else have a matter they wish to bring before the throne?” Keldor asked of the room. 

A large crowd was gathered in the throne room. But experience had taught Keldor that the vast majority of them were not there to speak. Most people who came to the royal petitions came to watch, not to actually bring a matter before the throne. In a group of approximately fifty or so people, only about twelve of them would actually come forward and speak. That was when King Miro was holding audiences. Since Miro had fallen ill and Keldor assumed the responsibility, that number was halfed. Fewer people were willing to bring matters of personal importance, or even business importance before a Gar. 

The one that kept thanking and bowing was only the sixth person Keldor had dealt with that day. 

A seventh petitioner stepped forward. 

They were an Aquatican, a member of one of the multiple marine races that populated Eternia’s oceans and deep lakes. With teal-green scales, and wide, round fisheyes. They wore light armor of a bright bronze color, just a breastplate and loincloth with matching bracers and shin-guards. 

“State your name and the matter you wish to discuss.” Keldor kept his voice even, controlled and without inflection. A business neutral voice. Not betraying the fact that he was actually just as board as his sleeping brother, or that he was anxious over his father’s failing health and preferred to be at his father’s bedside instead of here, listening to complaints from people who despised him. 

“I am Squidish Rex, ruler of that which lies beneath the sea.” He announced. “And I’ve come to swear my fealty to King Keldor.”

A shock ran down Keldor’s spine at that pronouncement. One so jarring he almost missed the fact that the entire throne room erupted with rumbling murmurs. King Miro was not dead. His spirit had not departed on his Next Journey. King Miro was laying sick in his bed, very much alive, and this creature from the deep seas was already declaring the Gar half-breed as King. Was Prince Keldor in on it? Was this some kind of clumsy coup by the mixed bastard that Miro was charitable enough to claim and legitimize?

To spite being King Miro’s first born son, Keldor was not well liked among the mostly human court of Eternos. 

He was not fully human for one. His mother was a Gar woman from the island of Anwat Gar, and while the Gar were human in shape, they were still very noticeably not human. Keldor had the unfortunate luck to have inherited the two most obvious non-human traits of the Gar race: blue skin and pointed ears. There was no hiding or concealing his non-human heritage. 

When he was younger, he did experiment with makeups and concealers that gave him a similar alabaster complexion as his father and brother, but he never really mastered the art of contouring and so the makeup never looked quite right on him. When he started to learn sorcery, Keldor tried glamours instead, but being young and inexperienced, the illusion was nothing more than a static mask. The mouth did not move when he spoke, the face never changed expression, and the overall result was to give the people around him an unnerving feeling of staring into the uncanny valley. 

Keldor never even tried to hide his mixed heritage now. In fact, he groomed and dressed in ways that drew attention to it. Forced people to acknowledge that King Miro’s first-born son was of non-human maternal decent. His ebony hair was always pulled back away from his face, showing off his high forehead and the sharp widows peak of his hairline, and he kept it twisted into a tight knot at the back of his head. Pulling the hair flush against the sides of his head so that it was impossible to miss the tall points of his ears. 

Nobody ever let Keldor forget that he was less than human, and Keldor took that. Made it his own. Crafted it into a shell around himself. Wore it like armor. 

The voices of the crowd grew so loud, that it woke Randor. Startling him in his seat so that he jerked awake. 

“Huh! Wha?” He wiped at the drool on his mouth and blinked still sleep-clouded eyes at the stiff of commotion. Everyone sounded so upset about something, but everyone was also talking at once, so it was impossible for Randor to know exactly what it was he was supposed to be reacting to. He leaned over their father’s empty throne to whisper at his brother, sitting as stiff and impassive as he’d been carved from stone. “I miss something important?”

One person stepped out from the crowd. Human, as most of those gathered in the throne room were human. With long dark hair that had just a single streak of gray in it. The only physical indicator of his true age. The face under his beard and bushy eyebrows was disproportionately young to how long Keldor and Randor had known him. It was Count Marzo. Low-level nobility, but high among those King Miro counted as friends. 

“I’m sure Prince Keldor has a reasonable explanation.” Marzo announced smoothly, possibly the calmest person in the room. 

Keldor did not answer him, he didn’t answer anyone. His eyes remained on the petitioner in the center of the room. It was not the same person Randor remembered before he fell asleep and he had to wonder at just how much of the day’s audiences he missed. Keldor stood from his seat beside father’s empty throne. 

It took a few moments, but once one person noticed he was standing they elbowed their friends, or the person who was talking to them, or just whoever was closest. Eventually, the alarmed muttering died down and the Prince once again had the attention of the entire assembly. 

Randor wished he could command a room like that. 

By just getting up off his ass. 

Father could do that, too. 

“I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip.” Keldor informed the Aquatican. “My father has not taken the Next Journey, and so I am not King. No oaths of fealty are required.”

“My apologies.” Squidish Rex lowered his head. “I was under the impression that King Miro was on his deathbed and not likely to recover. And when I arrived in Eternos, it was to find yourself and Prince Randor filling the King’s role, if not his title. But it seems I am premature.”

“Very premature.” Keldor insisted. “I can assure you; my father is not on his deathbed. In fact, he is recovering more of his strength every day. King Miro still has many more years left in his reign. It will be many more years yet before I am King. So, keep your oaths of fealty. I don’t need them.”

“Forgive me,” this time the Aquatican raised his head, looking Prince Keldor right in the eyes, “but I let my own personal feelings get the better of me. Eternia is a world of many races, yet we have never had a King that was anything but a pale-face human. Perhaps I was over-eager to welcome our first non-human ruler.”

This announcement sent another upset murmur through the crowd. 

Keldor being partially non-human was the central platform for his detractors. It made him a less desirable candidate to succeed Miro. Not more desirable as this Aquatican, as this other non-human, seemed to think. 

At his sides, Keldor’s hands balled into fists. The only outward indication of his feelings. His expression remained neutral, his back remained straight, his voice was even. “You should leave now, Squidish Rex.” He informed the Aquatican. “I am not King, and your fealty is not needed.”

Lifting his head, Squidish Rex looked at the rest of the assembly. He was a ruler of his own submarine kingdom, he had to be able to read a room. 

The Aquatican bowed to Keldor again. “As you command.” He backed away until he was at the doors of the throne room. Then paused, raising his head to look Keldor in the eyes again. “Just know that I am not the only non-human who waits for a different kind of King to sit the throne of Eternos.”

He left. 

Keldor remained standing. His hands still fists at his sides. Clenched so tight his usually jewel-blue knuckles were white, and his nails were biting into his palms. “Thank you all for coming.” He said in that same, even, and perfectly controlled voice. “Petitions are over for today. If you still have a matter to bring before the throne, you may try again tomorrow.” 

Randor didn’t even realize Keldor was leaving until he was gone. Walking behind the throne and exiting through a smaller door behind the dais. Randor had to sprint after his brother to catch up. 

“Kel! Hey, Kel, wait up!” 

Keldor stopped walking the moment his keen pointed ears heard the door shut behind his brother. He leaned against the corridor wall and, finally, allowed himself to reach his hands up to his face and massage the tension headache that had been building for the past three petitioners. Rubbing slow circles into the sides of his forehead with enough pressure to leave behind fingerprints in his skin.

“You okay?” Randor asked when he finally caught up. 

Allowing himself to show the weakness that he couldn’t show publicly, Keldor leaned forward and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Father isn’t getting better, though.” Keldor muttered into the fabric of Randor’s tunic sleeve. “What are we gonna do, Ran? I’m ready to be King, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m not ready to lose father!”

Wrapping his arms around his brother in a comforting hug, Randor rubbed circles into Keldor’s back. Keldor was great at appearing strong, in control, and in command. He possessed a level of discipline that Randor could only hope to one day achieve. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t get scared like everyone else. It didn’t mean that when a loved one fell ill; he wasn’t worried like everyone else. Keldor had reached and age of majority and was a grown man, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have moments where he felt like a helpless child just like everyone else. 

Miro was their only parent. The only parent that either of them knew. 

Keldor’s mother was a Gar woman who never left the island that was the Gar homeland. Miro brought Keldor to Eternos when he was still just an infant and he had no memories of his mother. He didn’t even know if she was still alive or had passed on to her Next Journey, and Miro never spoke of her. 

Randor’s mother passed onto her Next Journey shortly after giving birth to him and so he was never given the chance to form memories of her. 

Miro was the only parent either of them had ever had. It was only natural to feel lost and scared when his health started to fail, and he became frail, started to lose his independence, lost his balance and suffered frequent falls. Keldor and Randor didn’t know what to do. They were very much like children again; helpless. 

“Let’s go see father.” Randor suggested. “You never know, maybe his condition has improved since yesterday.”

King Miro was not in his bed when the brothers arrived at the King’s chambers. 

Keldor felt a stab of panic similar to when the Aquatican called him ‘King Keldor’. 

Where had Miro gone? He could not have gone far. It wasn’t like he was very mobile. Oh, gosh, what if he decided to go out onto the balcony for some air and had another one of the falling spells! What if he fell from his balcony? 

Then they heard a flush, and the privy door swung open. 

Miro shambled out. Walking slowly, leaning heavily on the door frame at first, letting the ancient wood take most of his weight, then taking small, stiff steps across the floor heading back to his bed. Barely lifting his feet off the carpet. More shuffling than actually walking. Easy to catch his toes in the thick carpeting and have another fall. 

Both Keldor and Randor rushed to the other side of the room to help their ailing father. Each one taking one of his arms to hold him up. 

“Get off me!” Miro snarled at them. He had been bad tempered and irritable since his health started to decline. “I can walk on my own!”

They did not let go. 

Past events had shown them that Miro could not, in fact, walk on his own. 

“We just wanna make sure you don’t fall again.” Randor assured him. 

“Where’s your care giver, father, they should be here to help you.” Keldor was more concerned that his ailing father was left alone, unsupervised, and without an aid when he clearly needed one. 

“I sent them out. I was sick of looking at them.” Miro snapped. “And I don’t need help taking a shit!”

They made it back to the bed. Randor pulled back the blankets while Keldor helped their father back in bed. 

“I was the greatest warrior of my generation!” Miro reminded them. “There was once a time I was the greatest warrior on the planet!”

“Yes, father, we know.” Randor tried to tuck the blankets around him, but Miro refused to lay down or cooperate. 

“I defeated King Hiss!” Miro continued. “He’s immortal, ya know!”

“Yes, father, you’ve told us.” Keldor assured him. 

“Now, that was a battle…” Miro smiled at the far off memory, made fond by the fog of nostalgia. “Just me and Marzo up against the immortal leader of the Snake Men. Just my sword, Marzo’s magic, and good old fashioned human guts.” 

Keldor pursed his lips and said nothing to that. He had his own opinions of Count Marzo and they did not align with Miro’s own views of his old comrade. They had a friendship that was forged in the fires of battle, brothers in arms. A bond that could often be stronger than the bond blood brothers. 

“Yeah, yeah, Marzo’s practically our mother. We get it.” Randor grumbled, speaking more to himself than to their father. 

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Marzo.” Miro snapped at him. “He’s saved my life more than once. He saved me before I even met your mother, Randor. He’s the reason I was around to squirt you into her belly.”

“Charming.” Keldor commented dryly. There was nothing like hearing graphically vivid imagery of his brother’s conception to make Keldor grateful his father never talked about his mother. 

Miro scoffed, unimpressed and unsympathetic. “You’ll feel differently when your own kids are complaining about your old war buddy.”

“Father, why don’t you try and get some rest?” Keldor suggested, deciding a change in subject was best. He fluffed the pillows, hoping to coax Miro into laying down. “We want you to regain your strength.”

For half a second, Miro’s eyes flashed with irrational rage. “Damn it, boy, I’m not sick! I’m just old! This is what happens to you when you get old and you don’t cheat and use magic to keep yourself young like some people!” 

“But, father, we just-“

“Get out.” Miro snapped. “Both of you. I’m sick of you too. You’re worse than the damn care giver! At least they know when to sit on the other side of the room and shut up!” 

He tried to get up to push them both out, but barely managed to lift the blankets to climb out of bed. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll go.” Keldor tried to placate their father. The last thing they wanted was for the old man to try and get physical only to have another fall or injure himself another way. 

Both brothers left the room. 

“Well, at least he’s still energetic and feisty.” Randor announced in his most positive voice. 

But Keldor’s optimism wasn’t raised any. “Last time, he got out of bed, grabbed me by the ear and shoved us both out himself.” He reminded his brother, rubbing a thumb over the point of one ear with remembered pain. “This time, he didn’t get the covers all the way off. He might still be stubborn and confrontational, but he’s getting weaker.” 

“Maybe you should have accepted that mer-man’s declaration of fealty.” Randor suggested. “Since it seems you’re gonna be King soon anyway.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” Keldor reprimanded him. “Don’t put father in his grave yet. He might get better. Remember, he was the greatest warrior of his generation. He won’t lay down and take the Next Journey without a fight. It’ll still be many years yet before I’m King.”

Keldor started walking down the corridor, heading for the stairs that would take him out of the residential wing of the palace. He was probably heading to the business section of the palace. Audiences might be over for the day, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still work that needed the King’s attention, and since the King was unavailable, a Prince would have to do it. 

Keldor paused before he got to the stairs. He turned back to his brother, his brain just processing something else his Randor said a little belatedly. “And did you just call the Aquatican king ‘mer-man’? Don’t do that. That’s so rude! That’s like when the court call me ‘pointy-ear’ behind my back. Don’t be like them. You’re better than that.”


	2. The Brothers' Plan

Randor didn’t feel powerless very often. As the son of a King, he had an abundance of power that he, honestly, didn’t know what to do with most of the time. 

But his father’s failing health filled Randor with a kind of anxiety he never experienced before and wasn’t equipped to deal with. He found himself in the training yard more and more often as Miro continued to decline. Randor wasn’t bookish and studious like Keldor. He couldn’t sit for long hours just staring at pages upon pages of text. He found no pleasure in study, or even just casual reading. 

When they were younger and still given to the care of tutors and private educators, Randor was a very disruptive student. Always falling asleep during lessons, or getting up and walking around the classroom, or trying to talk to his brother -whom was a model student- or even just climbing on the furniture, putting his feet up on the desk and hanging off the edge with his hands braced on the floor, do cartwheels in the back of the room only to misjudge the space and smack his head on the wall. 

Randor thrived best when he was doing something physical. Randor did his best thinking when his body was otherwise engaged. 

He trained with his own sword. A two-handed broad sword his father commissioned for him. Eternia had not suffered any wars within Randor’s lifetime. The last war ended when Keldor was still just an infant, months before Randor would even be born. 

Randor, and his large and pretty war blade had never seen real battle. 

But it was said that Eternia could never go a single generation without a war, and Miro wanted both his son’s to be ready because they would be the commanders of the next one, and so he commissioned swords for both brothers. 

Training with his shiny, unblooded, virgin sword had become something of a ritual of Randor’s. 

Keldor had his magic and his brooding, and Randor had the training circle and his sword. 

Randor was pulled from his almost meditative state when the blade clanged against another metal something, his swing being blocked, and he blinked at the person who had entered the training circle with him. 

“Duncan!” Randor barked. “By the Goddess, I could have taken your head off!”

“Not with a swing like that you wouldn’t.” The other replied. 

Duncan was a member of the Eternos guard. A Captain in the guard, actually, and one of the most promising officers. It was rumored that he was very likely to be promoted to the next Man-at-Arms if old Dekker ever retired. 

He was also Randor’s best friend. 

“Oh, yeah?” Randor flashed a challenging smirk. “You think you can do better? Let’s have a match!”

Duncan heaved a theatrically dramatic sigh. “If that is your wish, Your Highness.”

Both men readjusted their stances. 

Randor called it a ‘match’. But no one kept the time, and no one called the start. The two men just launched at each other. Duncan with his mace, and Randor with his very clean and shiny sword. 

The two men circling each other, spinning their weapons to cover all sides of their bodies, not leaving an opening for the other to exploit. They both had training yard perfect technique. Polished in a way that betrayed practice but not experience. 

When their weapons connected, it was like a perfectly choreographed dance. Even the clang of metal against metal started to form the melody of a battle song. But it was the perfect, measured tempo of kata sets, not the clumsy chaos of a real battle for life and limb. 

Someone on the sidelines even clapped. 

Applauded as if it were just a show. Players acting at being warriors. 

Both Duncan and Randor paused. Still holding their weapons up, both men looked over to the side. Searching the sidelines for the one clapping. 

They expected to see Duncan’s brother Fergus (whom had recently been elevated to a Master and insisted everyone call him by his new pseudonym, Fisto), or maybe even Dekker, he liked to watch the recruits practice sometimes. It helped him decide how best to deploy them around the city. 

But it was not Fisto, or Dekker they saw watching them practice. 

Count Marzo stood at the edge of the training circle. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” Marzo called to them. “Your forms are perfect, Your Highness, Captain, I was enjoying the dance.”

Randor didn’t know what to say to that. He never knew how to speak to Count Marzo. The older man had a way of making it seem like every statement that came out of his mouth had more than one meaning. Randor never knew what Marzo was actually trying to say, and it made him feel like an ignorant child trying to sit with the grown-up’s whenever they did speak. 

But Marzo was also father’s best friend. So, Randor plastered a welcoming smile on his face and waved to the older man. “Would you like to join us, my Lord? As a veteran of many battles, I’m sure there’s a lot you could teach us.”

“There probably is.” Marzo agreed. He brushed that gray streak of hair out of his eyes and leaned against the training circle railing. “But my days of fighting are over. Now I like to live in comfort, in this luxurious palace, and watch younger men play at being soldiers.”

“I am a soldier.” Duncan informed him defensively. Then quickly remembered the difference in their stations. Just because he was friends with a Prince and allowed to be familiar and banter with Randor, did not give him leave to behave the same to a Count. Duncan quickly bowed his head and added, “my Lord.”

Marzo appeared to be ignoring Duncan all together. His attention was focused on Randor, and Randor only. 

“Interesting audiences today, wouldn’t you say, Your Highness?” He asked. 

“I wouldn’t know.” Randor confessed. “I slept through most of them. Keldor’s the one who’s really good at all the boring King stuff. That’s why he’s gonna rule and I’ll be his General, or something.”

“You boys have it all figured out.” Marzo smiled an odd smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was an odd asymmetry to the expression. His mouth looked cheerful and amused, but his eyes were oddly hard and calculating. The upper and lower halves of his face did not quite seem to agree on how he felt. “I do wonder,” he continued, “what do you suppose that Aquatican meant when he said he was not the only non-human who wants to see your brother become King?”

Randor only shrugged. What did he know about the wants of people he’d never met? 

Marzo appeared to be disinterested in whether Randor answered or not, as if the question itself were unimportant. He traced the patterns of discoloration in the old training circle railing with his thumb nail. “Miro would often say that Eternia could never last an entire generation without having a war. For your sakes, and not my own, I do hope those creatures aren’t planning anything… sinister.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than what he said.” Randor insisted. “He wants to see a non-human King on the throne. It’s only fair. Like he said, Eternia is a world of many races. So other races should have turns at ruling. Maybe Keldor’s wife will be another non-human, and we’ll have a Beastmen, or a Caligar, or some other non-human for a King after him.”

For half a second, Marzo’s expression twitched asymmetrically. But then his lips stretched into another one of those gentle smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I see you truly are a pure-hearted Prince, Your Highness. One who loves all.”

Randor didn’t know what to say to that either, so he just shrugged again. 

“I wonder, does your brother feel the same way?” Marzo pressed. “Does Prince Keldor love Eternia as much as you do?”

The question confused Randor. Of course Keldor loved Eternia. Eternia was their world. Eternia was their nation. Keldor would rule Eternia one day. Why would he not love it? Why was this a question that was even being asked? 

Perhaps Randor just stared in confused silence a little too long, because Marzo shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter and brushed that strand of gray hair back out of his the way of his young face again. “Forgive me my ramblings. I’m just an old man talking to enjoy the sound of my own voice.” Marzo turned to leave. “Please tell your father I’d like to see him when he feels strong enough to have visitors. We can swap old war stories and reminisce about the ‘good ol’ days’.”

Duncan watched Marzo exit the training yard. He waited until the heavy wooden doors leading inside the palace were shut firmly behind the old Count before speaking. “I don’t like that guy.”

“I never know how to talk to Marzo.” Randor agreed. “But he’s not really that bad. I’m sure the problem is generational. I don’t know how to talk to my father sometimes too, and he’s a lot meaner now that his health is getting worse.” 

“What was all that stuff about ‘does Prince Keldor love Eternia enough’?” Duncan asked. “It was almost as if he were saying that Keldor shouldn’t be King.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Randor shook his head. “Marzo was the one who rescued father from Anwat Gar, Marzo brought Keldor to Eternos in the first place! He’s practically a second parent to us. If he didn’t want Keldor to be King, he could have just left him on the island with his mother and just brought father home.” Randor grabbed Duncan by the hand and pulled him out of the training circle. “C’mon, let’s go see Kel. He’ll tell you the same thing. Marzo’s weird, but otherwise harmless.”

…

Keldor was bent over a desk in the King’s study when Randor burst in. Shirtless, sweaty, his sword in one hand, dragging his friend, Captain Duncan, behind him with the other hand. 

“Is there an emergency?” Was Keldor’s first thought. 

“No.” Randor looked genuinely confused. Then looked down at his appearance. Having very clearly just dropped everything and come from the training yard. Not even having bothered to shower, change, or even clean and sheath his weapon. “Oh.”

With a sigh, Keldor waved to a page who had been waiting attentively to file whatever documents the Prince was reading over in his capacity filling in for the King. The page, another human, with sandy brown hair cut into a pageboy style came up to the desk, eager to serve. 

“Fetch a robe for my brother.” He commanded. The last thing any of them needed was another one of them getting sick and becoming bedridden. “Did you need something?”

Randor faltered for a moment. Suddenly, what he was dashing up here to ask didn’t seem all that important. Of course Keldor loved Eternia. Look how hard he was working for Eternia. Making sure the government still functioned and everything that needed to get done got done while the current King recovered. 

“Nothing.” Randor finally shook his head. 

Next to him, Duncan sighed. 

Keldor only lifted one perfectly trimmed and shaped eyebrow.

“It’s just, I was just talking to Marzo, and he said somethings that made me wanna come talk to you.” Randor tried to explain. “But now it doesn’t seem quite as pressing as it did at the time.”

“Marzo has a way of making everything that comes out of his mouth seem important.” Keldor informed him, lowering his eyes back to the documents he had previously been reading. Returning to work was about as clear a sign that Randor was dismissed as Keldor was going to give. 

Duncan took the hint. He bowed to both Princes and left the room, just like Keldor wanted. 

But Randor didn’t move. A thought had occurred to him, completely unrelated to what they were just talking about. 

Randor came around to sit on the edge of the desk, displacing some papers and earning him an acid look from his brother. “Hey, Kel…”

“What?” Now Keldor’s tone was annoyed. He was busy. Trying to run the planet. It was not simple work and it needed one’s full attention. 

“Marzo’s father’s best friend, right?” Began Randor, talking through his thought process as it was happening in his head. “They fought together in all the same battles, defeated all the same enemies, he’s in all of father’s stories.”

“Yeah…?” Keldor really just wanted to know where his brother was going with this so he could finish whatever he was trying to say and get out. 

Unless Randor wanted to help with the administrated aspects of ruling a planet, which Keldor greatly doubted he did. Randor was not the studious type. Reading and paperwork were not activities he had much attention for. 

“Well, how come father got old and Marzo didn’t?” Randor finally finished his thought.

“Marzo’s a sorcerer.” Keldor reminded him, as if this should have been obvious. “He uses his magic to sustain his life and keep his youth. It’s higher-level magic, not all sorcerers can do it. Marzo is clearly very powerful since he can. He might even have a powerful artifact, and use its power to sustain himself to conserve his own. There’s more than one powerful artifact on Eternia. Probably more than one that can sustain youth or restore health…” 

He trailed off as a thought occurred to him now. 

Keldor bolted to his feet. Suddenly feeling the pressing need to do research. 

Randor also stood, assuming he had upset his brother in some way and braced himself to be kicked out of the room. 

But then all Keldor did was look back down at the desk and all the paperwork still strewn across it. 

Keldor sat back down. “I need to finish this.”

…

The next day, however, Randor was pulled from his bed by a hand closing around his ankle and yanking him off the mattress. 

He was still half asleep when his butt hit the floor with a THUNK that was more painful than it was loud. Massaging his tailbone, Randor blinked sleep-clouded eyes up at a blue face. It took him far too long to recognize it at his brother waking him up in early hours of the morning. So early, it was still a little dark outside. The sun was just peaking up over the horizon. 

“Kel?” He groaned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Keldor informed him, sounding about as manic as he looked. 

And he did look manic. 

Keldor was wearing the same clothes from the previous day, his tunic was wrinkled and rumpled in a way that implied he was bent over a desk working all night. There were dark circles under his eyes that even the jewel-tone blue of his skin couldn’t conceal, and several strands of his hair had flown free from his knot and frizzed out the sides of his head. 

In short, Keldor looked a mess. Which meant that something had to be wrong, because Keldor never looked a mess. 

Randor just continued to stare at him. It was too early in the morning for this. He could not be expected to just ‘figure things out’. 

“I have the answer.” Keldor began an explanation without having to be asked, much to Randor’s relief. “Actually, you gave me the answer when we were talking about Marzo. Eternia is full of magical artifacts that can reserve youth, prolong life, or restore health. I’m gonna find one, and I’m gonna use it to heal father.”

Keldor leaned down and offered his brother a hand up. 

But the moment Randor was on his feet, he was not given a moment to collect himself. Or even to change out of his sleep clothes (which was little more than a loincloth and socks). Still holding his brother’s hand, Keldor pulled Randor from his champers and dragged him out of the residential wing of the palace to the business floors. Arriving back in the office. 

There were a number of pages awaiting instructions ready and lined up behind the desk and Randor was keenly aware of how exposed he was. 

But Keldor seemed not to notice. He dragged Randor over to the desk and started explaining… whatever he dragged Randor out of bed for. 

“I know you can handle audiences on your own. You’ve been sitting in on audiences with me since father started to decline. But sitting on the throne is the least important part of being King. Here,” Keldor laid a single sheet of paper in the center of the desk. It appeared to be a colorful grid chart. “I made a cheat-sheet for you since I know you won’t remember. But let me explain. Treasury documents are marked with gold, the treasury stuff is most important, so it needs to be handled very carefully. Do no deal with them if you’re distracted and do not sign anything if you don’t understand it. The treasury is how we pay for everything we do. Agricultural figures are marked in green. Most of the tithes the crown collects are in food stuffs, not money, so this is how the treasury is filled. We can mint as many coins as we needs, but the foodstuffs are the tangible wealth those coins represent.-“

“Why are you telling me this?” Randor cut him off before his brother could continue. He knew how the government ran. He grew up in it.

Keldor sighed. “I know paperwork and sitting for a long time isn’t your thing, that’s why I tried to set up a system to make it as easy for you as possible.” He answered with what he probably thought was an explanation. "I even wrote up a schedule that includes frequent breaks for you to climb on the desk or do cartwheels into the walls if you need to. I also made you this-“ he pulled Randor over to pitcher on a side table and poured out a mug of some hot brown liquid, “-it’s a potion that will keep you awake and help you focus. It is bitter, though, so you’ll want to add cream and sugar.” He pressed the hot mug into Randor’s hands. “Now, municipal projects are marked in blue. They’re a lower priority and can wait until I get back. But if you wanna knock any off the desk for me, I’ll appreciate it.”

“Get back?” Randor echoed. “You’re going somewhere?”

“I already told you.” Keldor sounded so impatient, he wanted to get back to explaining his new color-coded filing system. “I’m going to find a magical artifact to heal father. While I’m gone, someone still has to keep running the planet. With father ill, and me gone on a quest, that duty falls to you. This is how the line of succession works, Ran.”

Maybe it was because Randor was still half asleep, but for some reason, his mind just was not processing all of this. “Shouldn’t I be the one to go out on a quest for a magical item?”

“Do you know anything about magic?” Keldor asked, now maybe a little insulted. 

Keldor was an actual sorcerer. He studied sorcery as diligently as Randor studied his blade. His magic was as neat and polished as Randor’s training-circle kata. And he studied more magic in his free time. As a hobby. Keldor did homework to relax. He even drafted his own spell concepts. Randor could go out searching the planet for magical artifacts. But he wouldn’t know if whatever he found was what he was looking for. 

“I’ll go.” Keldor nodded, seeing it on his brother’s face the moment he comprehended why it had to be Keldor. “I did some research last night and I have a list. I’ve already planned the most efficient rout. My quest is not what I’m worried about. I need to make sure you can rule in my stead while I’m gone. I don’t wanna find something to save father only to come home and find the whole monarchy collapsed.”

“I can keep the monarchy from collapsing.” Randor assured him. 

“Good.” Keldor nodded. Then he pulled his younger brother into a hug. “And when I get back, I promise you’ll never have to play King again. Being King is meant for me, not you.”


	3. Evergreen Forest

Keldor did not stay long after explaining to Randor his system for handling the administrative tasks of being King. The sorcerer stayed only long enough to take a nap (he had been up all night), pack a bag, and change his clothes. 

When he left Eternos, he didn’t look much like a Prince at all. Wearing plain, practical travel boots with just a bit of fur trim, bare legs and exposed thighs for better mobility, an armored loincloth, exposed abdominals and pectorals, just some bandoliers crossed over his chest holding on some light shoulder armor, and a cape with a hood. Keldor was not wearing the hood, he refused to cover his ears. Even traveling, not letting people know that he was Prince Keldor, he would not hide his Gar features. 

On his back he carried his travel bag, and his sword. A very unique blade his father commissioned for him. 

A double bladed great-sword. It looked far too large for one of Keldor’s build and height. But the twin blades came apart, forming two separate but identical swords. Mirror images of each other. One, the hilt tinted a dark violet, the grip stained in lavender, and metal of the blade a cool blue. The other, a gold hilt, white grip, and shining pure steel blade. A sword with two blades for a Prince from two peoples. 

Like Randor, Keldor had never used it outside of the training circle. 

He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it at all. 

Outside the city gate was such a stark contrast from inside the wall. Inside was all paved streets and stone buildings. Neatly trimmed city trees, all placed equal distances apart, square window boxes, or diligently tended private yards. Eternos was a nice city, but it had the sterility of civilization to it. Outside the gates, the Fertile Plains sprawled in front of him for kilometers around. Green, and lush, and verdant. Tall grasses coming up to Keldor’s hips. The wind brushing over it, making the stocks bend like waves of the sea. 

A narrow little road cut through it. Paved close to the city wall, but the farther out a person went, the more poorly maintained it became until it was little more than a dirt path. Keldor made a mental note to add the road in and out of the city to his list of municipal projects that needed his attention when he got back. Eternos was the capital city of the whole planet. Eternia could not have her capital city inaccessible by foot traffic or anyone who didn’t own a hover vehicle. The capital should be open to all citizens of Eternia. 

When the dirt path finally vanished under the grass of the plains, Keldor struck out on his own, forging his own trail through the grass. Heading north, up to the Evergreen Forest. 

Keldor didn’t actually know much about the Evergreen Forest, to spite being so close to the capital, it was a place mostly shrouded in mystery. But the Evergreen Forest was not one of his destinations, none of the artifacts on his list were said to rest within its trees. But through the Evergreen Forest was the quickest way to get to the Vine Jungle, which did have an artifact. 

The Moonfire Stones that resided within the Temple of the Fantus. 

It was said that the twin stones that were the eyes of Fantus, a local minor deity. They were supposedly set in a statue of the deity, and imbued the resident tribe of worshippers with power. 

‘Power’ was a word that was thrown around a lot on Eternia, not just within sorcery circles. It was used so widely and so broadly that it had lost almost all meaning. It could be that the Moonfire Stones did nothing more than give the locals the ‘power’ of faith and hope. Or it could be that they channeled the energies of time and space and could un-make the universe if used improperly. Or, they could be exactly what Keldor needed to restore his father’s health and vitality. His quest could be over at the first point on his list and he could come home victorious. 

He just needed to get through the Evergreen Forest to find out. 

The trees rose up suddenly from the plains. A dark line of tall trunks, almost like a wall forming the border between the Fertile Plains and the Evergreen Forest. 

They were not all evergreens. There were pines, and fir, red cedar, spruce, cypress, and yew. The vast majority of trees making up the Evergreen Forest were evergreens. But not all of them, Keldor also noted oak and maple, hawthorn, dogwood, aspen, and persimmon. Trees who’s leaves did change color and were not forever green. 

Currently, everything was green. 

And very dark. The trees were dense and close together, their branches interweaving to block out much of the natural daylight. And the underbrush was thick. Overgrown and tangled. There was no discernable path through the Evergreen Forest. Keldor just had to trust that he could keep his heading north and not stray too far off course in the dark wood. 

It took him the better part of the day to cross the Fertile Plains and so he knew he couldn’t travel much farther after reaching the forest. But he at least wanted to cover some distance before he made camp for the night. 

Staying on as straight a path as he could, looking around him for a flat enough space for him to lay down on, and glancing up every now and again to try and discern how much daylight he still had. It was slow goings for Keldor.

Finally, he found a spot that was clear enough of underbrush for him to sit down. Not to lay down fully, just sit on the ground with his back leaned against a tree. He hugged his cape around him for shelter, and this time he did raise the hood up over his head and cover his ears. Not to hide their points, just to shield them from any creepy crawly things that might come out while he was sleeping. 

It was uncomfortable. 

The ground was hard, and the bark of the tree uneven. Keldor could not find a comfortable position, and he spent the majority of his night turning and fidgeting against the tree. 

He did sleep, though. He knew he slept because he dreamed. 

He dreamed of a crown that was just out of reach. Try as he might to run towards it, it continued to draw farther and farther away from him. He could never possess it. When he did catch up to the crown, it transformed into a skull in his hands. Startled and afraid, Keldor threw the skull away. But it came sailing back and closed over his head. Try as he might, Keldor couldn’t pull the skull off. It was a part of him now. His face. His identity. A Prince who would never be King, with a face of death. 

There was a moment of disorientation when he woke up and realized he was not safe in his bed in the palace. Then Keldor remembered what he was doing out here in the wilderness. On a quest to find an artifact of powerful magic to heal his father. 

Lowering the hood down off his ears, Keldor stood. He cracked his back and massaged his neck. Everything felt stiff and sore, and it had only been his first night. 

Looking around, Keldor realized he wasn’t sure which direction was north anymore, and the branches of the trees were too densely interwoven for him to see which direction the sun was rising from. 

He tried searching for his own trail from the previous day, but any bent underbrush was grown over, and tracks in the dirt were covered up or obscured by animal movements in the night, and nothing looked familiar to him. Keldor glanced back up at the tree he slept under. It had a wide trunk and thick branches. He could climb it. Maybe it was tall enough to get him above the canopy so he could see the son and find a direction. 

It wasn’t exactly as easy a climb as Keldor would have liked. The bark was course and uneven and gave plenty of hand and foot holds, but it was also old, the outer bark flaking away to reveal younger bark underneath. Keldor nearly fell more than twice. The second near fall he was very high up already and had a flash of a panic for a brief second when he thought he was going to die, before he caught himself on a small branch. 

Finally, he got as high as he could. The newer, thinner branches and the narrower younger parts of the trunk no longer substantial enough to support his weight. Keldor drew his sword and cut off the top of the tree so he could have an unobstructed view of the forest. 

He was very high up. 

High enough to see that the Evergreen Forest stretched out for kilometers on all sides. 

Keldor must have made it deeper into the forest that he originally thought because he could not even see the plains anymore. It was like he was adrift in a sea of dark green. In all directions, green. 

Except for one random speck of gray. 

Keldor narrowed his eyes, squinting at the gray speck, trying to figure out what it was. There was no shine of reflection that a body of water would have. It wasn’t a lake or an uncommonly large pond. It almost looked like a castle. A castle made of gray stone. 

But there were no settlements or outposts in the Evergreen Forest. At least, there weren’t supposed to be. Aside from the animals that were native to the forest, it was uninhabited. 

But, inhabited or not, it was a landmark. 

Keldor looked at the sun. It was still rising, so he knew which way was east. That meant that the gray stone castle was west of him, and north was that way. 

Sliding back down to the ground, Keldor struck out heading north. 

It was still slow goings. Even if he knew where he was going, there were no trails or paths in the Evergreen Forest. Everything was overgrown, and thick. Dense in a way that felt like the woods were actively trying to push him away or push him out. Like the forest itself did not want him there. 

Inevitably, he ended up veering off from his strait line north. Whether it was a fallen tree he had to detour around, or a dense wall of brambles that couldn’t be passed through, or a stream that couldn’t be forded, Keldor had to change direction. He knew he was off course again, he just wasn’t sure how far. 

And then a falcon came out of nowhere and divebombed his head. 

“Argh!” Keldor dove to the ground to avoid a second pass by the falcon. “What the-!?”

He rolled onto his back. 

It had uncommon coloring for a falcon. White, red and blue. And she was diving at him with talons out. 

Keldor jumped to his feet and ran. 

The falcon probably had a nest nearby, because she followed Keldor as he ran. Screeching loudly, scratching at his hair with her talons, and beating her wings as if she were trying to box his ears more than keep herself air born. Very, very aggressively trying to chase him off. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” He shouted at the bird. 

She still pursued him until Keldor nearly tumbled off a cliff. 

He grabbed a tree branch at the last moment and pulled himself back on land. Hugging the tree with both arms and legs. 

Then, the falcon finally left him alone and flew back to her roost, wherever that was. 

Keldor breathed a sigh of relief. He climbed up onto the branch of the tree he was already holding onto and leaned back into the bend where the branch joined the trunk. He looked out over the see. The sun was setting now, and setting over the water, which meant he had somehow gotten to the west coast of the small straight that separated the Southern Continent from the Norther. When Keldor started out, the path up from Eternos put him sort of in the middle, but in the middle closer to the east coast. 

For all the walking (and running) he did during the day, he hadn’t traveled any closer to his goal. 

He probably past clear by that old castle of gray stone without even seeing it. If his mental map of the area was at all accurate, he was probably getting close to the castle around the time the falcon attacked him. She probably made her roost somewhere in the old ruin and though he was a predator getting too close to her nest. 

He ran a hand through his hair. Much of it had been knocked lose by the falcon attack, and he let it down to brush it out. When his hands came away from his head, they had specks of blood on thim. The falcon’s talons had scratched him after all. 

Pulling his pack off his back, Keldor pulled out his medical salve and dabbed at his scalp under the hair where he felt the sting of cuts. 

Then he leaned back against the tree, and prepared to spend another night in the Evergreen Forest. 

…

When he woke up, it was to a spike of adrenaline as Keldor got the sudden sensation that he was falling. 

He caught himself before he could fall completely. 

It was still dark, but it was the kind of bright darkness that proceeded the morning. The sun would be rising soon and Keldor would have enough light to press on. He was on the western coast, so if he just followed the shore and kept it on his left side the whole time, he should reach the Vine Jungle by the end of the day. 

Nibbling on some of the food he packed from Eternos, Keldor studied the edge of the cliff, looking for a safe way down to the rocky beach. It didn’t have to be a wide path, just a few ledges or rocks jutting out from the side would do. Keldor could climb. But there were none immediately in front of him. 

Stowing what he hadn’t eaten of his supplies and closing up the pack, Keldor swung down from the tree he was in and landed on the grassy, overgrown ground. He would just have to follow the tree line until he either found a way down, or the Evergreen Forest ended. Whichever happened first. 

Hugging his cape tighter around him to ward off the cool morning air rolling in off the Growling Sea, Keldor started heading north again.

The morning was climbing from ‘sunrise’ into a more proper ‘daytime’ when Keldor finally came to a way down to the rocky shore. Where the rain, or perhaps the high tide surf had washed away enough of the earth to weaken the tree roots and several trees had fallen over. Their roots still clinging to the higher slope, while branches spread out over the shore, the trunk between forming a nice ramp down. Keldor used them to slide down to the bank. 

Without having to weave his way between trees anymore, and without hazard of losing his way anymore, Keldor followed the coast north until the trees started to change. 

Fewer evergreens now. 

More nutmeg, brazilnut, palm, and acai. The kinds of trees one might find in a jungle. They were growing interspersed with the evergreens of the forest that bore their name. He was getting close to the Vine Jungle, but he wasn’t there yet. 

He took a break for the midday meal next to a stream of fresh water that trickled out of the forest down into the sea. Keldor washed his hands in it when he was done eating and refilled his water skin from it. 

Pressing on, it was early evening before he started to see the actual vines hanging in the trees. 

Gone were the evergreens. No more cypress, or fir, or pine. Now it was all palm, and brazilnut, and acai. But also, kapok, gum tree, rubber tree, balsa, and cacao. 

It took him the better part of three days, but Keldor finally reached the Vine Jungle. 

Now he just had to find the Temple of the Fantus and decide whether or not the Moonfire Stones were the kind of magical artifact that could help father or if he had to move on to the next item on his list. 

It wasn’t a long list, and Eternia was a large planet. Keldor hoped he found one that would work fast and not have to be away from him father and brother too long. It took him three days just to reach the Vine Jungle. How long would it take him if he had to go all the way to House of Darkness in the deserts of the Dark Hemisphere to find something? 

At least Randor was taking care of things at home. 

Grabbing onto the vines that hung down onto the rocky beach, Keldor pulled himself up off the bank and into the jungle. It was muggy under the trees. More humid than on the beach, the air not moving as much and the moisture allowed to stagnate. 

The Temple of Fantus was somewhere in the middle, so Keldor head in. 

He just barely was out of sight of the beach behind him when he felt something large and dark pounce on him. 

Keldor rolled onto his back to see the massive jaws of a wild Dylinx bearing down on him. 

The massive jungle cats could grow larger than horses and were immensely strong. This one was huge, if its teeth were anything to go by. One yellow-tinted fang was almost as long as Keldor’s face.

He stared at the open, hissing mouth with its dagger-sized teeth and thought for a moment that he just might die out here in the jungle far from home and his brother might never know what happened to him. 

Keldor hoped Randor was having an easier time than he was.


	4. New to the Throne

Keldor had been gone for what… two… three days? How did he make this look so easy? How did he keep the piles of papers on the desk so low that Randor didn’t really even notice their movement? Keldor was some kind of machine! 

He had been gone two or three days, Randor wasn’t even sure, he had no concept of time, and already the stacks of documents on the desk were as tall as he was. It seemed like in the time it took Randor to read over one document, the pages deposited six more on the desk. He always did have trouble concentrating and was a slow reader because of it. The bitter potion Keldor made for him (and taught the pages to continue making so that he would always have a fresh hot pot ready) did help with keeping him awake, and even with the focusing problem a little bit. But it did not magically turn Randor into a paperwork guy. 

The door to the office opened and Duncan poked his head in. 

Randor was just barely visible behind all the work that had piled up on the desk. Bent over whatever document he was trying to focus on. His mop of rich brown hair the only part of him that could be seen from the doorframe. 

“Are you coming?” Duncan asked. 

“Huh?” Randor looked up at his friend. “Coming where?”

“Royal Audiences.” Duncan reminded him. “The petitioners have already arrived. There’s a bit of a crowd waiting for you in the throne room.”

“Audiences aren’t until mid-day.” Randor blinked at him. 

Duncan’s only response was to glance at the time peace on the wall. 

Randor followed his eyes. It was mid-day. Randor catapulted out from behind the desk. He was late! Seriously, how did Keldor do this!? Keldor was never late and he always knew what time it was, where he needed to be, and what he was doing. Randor sprinted through the corridors of the palace, heading for the throne room. 

Duncan grabbed him just before he reached the small door that would let him out behind the dais. “Hang on.” 

He smoothed out Randor’s hair and tried to adjust his clothing so that the tunic draped right and didn’t look bunch or rumpled like he’s just been hunched over a desk for the past five hours. When Duncan was done, Randor still didn’t look as statuesque and perfect as Keldor always managed to look. But he at least looked presentable. 

“Okay, better.” 

Taking a breath to steady his nerves, this would be the first time Randor would host audiences on his own, he stepped out into the throne room. Made eye-contact with no one as he came around to sit in his ostentatious chair next to the empty throne, and sat down, trying to keep his back strait. 

Randor cleared his throat. “Does anyone have a matter they wish to bring before the throne?”

Duncan came around and took up a guard position at the foot of the dais stairs. As a palace guard, ever a Captain of the guard, Duncan couldn’t help Randor with the audiences themselves. He did not have the authority to make decisions or rulings in matters of disputes. But his presence was reassuring. Randor just felt better when Duncan was around. When old Dekker retired, Randor was definitely going to recommend him for the Man-at-Arms position. 

“If you have business to bring before the throne, come forward and state your name and the matter you wish to discuss.” Duncan’s voice was so much louder than Randor’s. He knew how to project. Shouting orders for subordinates taught one how to use their voice without over-using their voice. Duncan was good at it. 

At the moment, Randor felt like he was good at nothing. Keldor was a better administrator than him, and Duncan was a better public speaker than him. 

These were the reasons why Randor was not going to be King. 

Two men stepped forward, one of them with a child clinging close to them. The first was a human. The other, with the child, a Pelleezean; shaggy white fur and large amber eyes with small pupils. The child also a Pelleezean, presumably the man’s offspring. 

It was a land dispute. 

The human owned one of the largest farms on the Fertile Plains, and was in fact the largest producer of grain that fed the capital city of Eternos. Recently, he had been expanding his patches into Pelleezean land. Tilling their soil and sewing his own seed, then fencing in the land when the grains sprouted. At first it was just a little bit. No more than a kilometer on the northern or eastern borders. But more recently, he was taking more and more of the Pelleezean land until the village was now beginning to question whether or not they had enough land to feed their own people now. 

The Pelleezean came to Eternos to beg the throne’s intervention in the matter. To protect the land the Pelleezean still controlled, and force the human farmer to return to them the land that was taken. 

The human came to argue his position and defend his unsanctioned requisitioning of the land. “Eternos is the greatest city in the world.” He said. “And I feed that city. Prince Randor, taking the land away from me is taking food out of your citizen’s mouths!”

“And what of the food in my people’s mouths?” Demanded the Pelleezean. He hugged his child closer to him. “Odiphus has had to divide more than one meal between himself and his siblings. And we are not the only family in the village that it rationing to make sure all of our children can eat! Next year it will be worse. Are we not also citizens under the throne of Eternos?”

Randor really, really wished Keldor was here. Keldor would know exactly what to do. Keldor always knew what to do without even having to think about it. 

Everyone was looking at him. 

Intaking a breath, Randor opened his mouth to say something. Then thought better of it and closed his mouth again. But he was acting in place of the King, so they were expecting him to say something. He had to make some kind of ruling in the dispute. Why else would they bring their dispute before the throne? What was the point of being a ruler if he didn’t rule?

“The Fertile Plains are the some of the richest lands on the planet.” He began. “I’m sure there is more than enough land for everyone to grow everything they need. If Eternos’ farms are taking up land to the east, can you not expand to the west?”

The human looked so smug. Prince Randor was taking his side. 

The Pelleezean looked outright betrayed. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but you seem ill informed about the landscape just outside this city.” Announced the Pelleezean. “The land to the west, closer to the Gnarl Sea is hard and rocky, gnarled like the sea it borders. Difficult to farm, and will give little yield. It is true when you say that the Fertile Plains is some of the richest land on the planet -overall- but that does not mean that all the land of the plains is rich and fertile. If expanding into other areas was the solution, I would not be here before you today. We have tried farming to the west already and it has not worked.”

Randor chewed his bottom lip. 

“Forgive my asking, Your Highness,” continued the Pelleezean, “but where is Prince Keldor? Does he not usually handle cases like this?”

Randor chewed his bottom lip even harder. “My brother has left on family business.” He announced. “I will be filling in until he returns.”

This sent a rumble of murmured questions through the crowd. Prince Keldor left? While his father lay in bed sick? When he was supposed to be ruling in Miro’s stead. What ‘family business’ could Prince Keldor possibly have that wasn’t already here in Eternos? Could he have been summoned by his mother? The anonymous Gar woman Miro refused to even name. 

Duncan looked back at Randor sitting on the throne. He didn’t have to say anything. Randor realized it the moment the muttering started. He said the wrong thing. 

He should have just said that Keldor was ‘unavailable’. It was technically true. And ambiguous enough so as not to create problems for Keldor in the future. The ones that called him ‘pointy ear’ behind his bad liked to use any excuse to say that Keldor would be an unfit King. Leading the city while Miro was ailing in bed would be prime ammunition for them. Even if Keldor had left for the express purpose of healing his father. 

Randor rested his head in his hands. This was only his first audience, and he was already messing things up. 

Straitening and clearing his throat, Randor tried to call for order. 

He stood from the throne. 

But he didn’t have the same level of command over a room as his brother or father. No one quieted down for him. 

Finally, Duncan banged his mace on the floor. The loud sound reverberating through the throne room and calling everyone’s attention back to the throne, and the dais where Randor stood. 

“Keldor is unavailable.” Randor tried to begin again. “But perhaps you are right. He does usually handle matters such as this and I am inexperienced. I will reflect on your case before I make a final ruling.”

This was not the answer the Pelleezean was hoping for. 

At his side, the child tugged on his father’s smock. “Is the King not gonna help us?”

“That is not the King.” He hushed his son, then looked back up at Randor. “A King would not sit idle while families starved.”

Randor was standing. 

The human farmer continued to look smug. 

“I’m not sitting idle; I’ll be thinking about the case!” Randor insisted. 

“What is there to think about?” Demanded the Pelleezean. “He has fenced us off from our own land and reaps it for himself while my people starve! There is a clear wrongful party here and all I ask is that you serve the justice your throne is meant to represent and make him give back the land so that my people can continue to live as we have lived for hundreds of years!”

“Your Highness, my farms feed your city.” The human reminded him. “With the ever-booming population, I will need the extra land to continue to fulfill the city’s needs.” He paused, then turned a taunting eye to the Pelleezean and his son. “Of course, the Pelleezean people could always offer to come work for me and I would be more than happy to compensate them with all the food they could eat.”

“Unbelievable!” Shouted the Pelleezean. “First you steal our land, now you wish to extort us to work it for you!”

“Enough!” Count Marzo appeared, seeming to just melt out of the crowd. “This is the Royal Throne Room of Eternos, not a Perpetuan marketplace! The Prince has said he will meditate on your complaint and bring you his ruling when he reaches a decision. That is the answer you have been given today. You should be dismissed. If that is a difficult concept for you, I’m sure our own Captain Duncan can escort you out.”

Duncan looked back at Randor again, standing on the dais and looking so very lost. Duncan took his orders from the throne, not from Marzo. If Randor told him to escort the Pelleezean farmer and his son out of the throne room, then he would. But he would not take the command from the Count, no matter how lost and unsure Randor obviously was. 

Randor hesitated a moment. He didn’t know what to do. 

Then he nodded. “Audiences are supposed to be open for everyone. We can’t spend the whole day debating one case. Duncan, please escort them out and find them temporary lodging until I have rendered my decision.”

Suppressing a sigh, Duncan nodded and stepped forward to walk the Pelleezean and his son out of the throne room. 

“Don’t bother with the lodgings.” The Pelleezean snarled back up at the throne. “I can already see my village will find no justice here!”

He grabbed his son by the hand and stomped from the throne room. 

Randor slumped back in his unnecessarily ornate chair, feeling like he’d handled everything about that situation wrong. He wished Keldor were here. Keldor would know what to do. Keldor always seemed to know what to do. 

…

After the audiences Randor was still thinking much the same. 

Keldor should really be here doing all this. Randor should have been the one to leave on the heroic quest. He was the better swordsman and the more expendable Prince. Keldor was indispensable. 

Randor stirred cream into his bitter wake-up-and-focus potion, sipped it, then added two more spoonfuls of sugar. He could have had a page make his drink for him, but Randor needed to do something with his hands. Usually when he felt like this, he would go down to the training yard and work on his swordsmanship. But he just did not have that luxury right now. 

Turning back around, Randor took one look at the desk and his heart sank. There were even more papers on it now than before the audiences. How did Keldor keep the stacks so low? How did Keldor read so fast, and be so decisive? How did Keldor rule? Randor was doing this for only just a few days and it was so hard! 

He turned back around and added a third spoonful of sugar to his mug. For energy. 

Randor was just sitting back down at the desk when Duncan walked in. 

“The Pelleezeans have left the city.” He announced. 

“Oh.” Randor felt oddly disappointed by that. “I know he was angry. I’ve never done this before, if he had just given me a little more time…” a sigh “At least Marzo had my back there when I was losing control of the room.”

Duncan frowned, not liking a single word that just came out of his friend’s mouth. 

“It was a really easy call to make, Randor.” Duncan told him flatly. “Someone was stealing land; the rightful owners of that land came to you to enforce the property borders. You should have made that guy give back everything he took from the Pelleezeans right then and there. Instead, you told them to wait. You basically told that Pelleezean that you didn’t care about his village or his starving children.” 

“What? No!” Randor was horrified. “I care about all of Eternia’s citizens! You think I should make the other farmer give the land back I’ll make him give the land back! But what if Eternos starts to suffer shortages and scarcities because of it?”

“We won’t.” Duncan assured him. “Every year King and your brother put aside a portion of the harvest in dry storage in case of droughts or blights. The city is taken care of. Smaller villages and townships that don’t have our large storage facilities do not have the same luxury. I’m more concerned that that wasn’t your decision from the start! That should have been the decision you made in the throne room. It’s not that hard to think about.” 

“I’m still new to this!” Randor reminded him. Keldor handled all the audiences. And before him father took care of everything. All Randor ever had to do was show up to official functions and look presentable. 

“You have been sitting in on audiences with your brother since the King began to decline!” Duncan reminded him. “You are not new to this, you’re just nervous and second-guessing your own judgment. You can’t afford to do that.”

“It’s not like I’m going to be King!” Randor snapped. 

“Well, you might be!” Duncan argued back. “If your father never recovers, and Keldor never returns from his quest, you will be King of Eternia. For your sake, I hope this is just temporary, but you still need to take this seriously and take charge. Be King while your father and brother can’t.”

“Why are you riding me so hard about this?” Randor demanded. He slammed his mug down on the desk, splashing creamy brown liquid all over his paperwork. “I thought we were friends!”

“We are friends!” Duncan roared. “That’s why I’m so concerned. Do you know what’s going to happen now? That Pelleezean is going to go back home and tell his whole village that the throne of Eternos doesn’t care about them. That the throne of Eternos did not uphold the justice they claimed to stand for. Maybe some of them might start to question why the throne of Eternos is even allowed to continue to rule when they have no interest in the people they rule over.”

“But I do have an interest in them!” Randor continued to insist. 

“Well, you didn’t show it in the throne room today.” Duncan informed him, taking a breath to regain his calm. A shouting match was not what he wanted. Randor was not good at being King right now because he was not trained to be a King. But Duncan believed in him. Over average, Randor was more approachable and friendly than Keldor. He made people around him feel comfortable (usually). He could be a good King. There was no doubt in Duncan’s mind that Randor would be a good King. 

Miro was a strong King. 

Keldor would be a smart King. 

Randor could be a kind King. 

He just needed some coaching. 

Randor flopped down in the chair behind the desk. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Duncan.”

“I know.” Duncan came around the desk. He pulled a file crate over and sat on it like a stool. “I can tell you; I’d have no idea what I was doing either if I was told I had to fill in as King for an undetermined amount of time. But I didn’t have your upbringing.”

“I wonder if there’s protocol in place for having someone sit in with me on audiences.” Randor mused aloud. “Maybe Marzo since he was father’s best friend.”

“I would recommend Dekker instead.” Duncan said quickly. He already told his friend that he did not like Count Marzo. Duncan explained. “Officially, Man-at-Arms holds a position closer to the crown than just a Count. Marzo has high standing because he’s the King’s best friend. But he does not have a high enough rank to merit advising the Prince who’s filling in for the King.”

Randor nodded, accepting this reasoning. “I’m glad I can confide in you that I need help.”

Duncan reached over and took a sip of the wake-up-and-focus potion in Randor’s mug. Quickly decided that it was too bitter for him and placed the mug back down. “I’m just glad you don’t get all insulted and confrontational when I tell you, you need help.”

Because they both agreed Randor couldn’t be King on his own. 

…

High above the planet, a ship was going down. It wasn’t the kind of ship for traversing the seas and waters of Eternia, it was a ship for traversing the massive expanses of space between worlds and stars. A space ship, if you will. 

Eternia had no space travel, and so this was a thing unheard-of on their world. 

The ship was drawn into the system by the pull of Eternia’s star, but it was the pull of the planet Eternia that drew the ship down. Crashing onto her southern continent in the Light Hemisphere. 

The lone pilot of the space craft, knocked unconscious by the crash.


	5. Many Meetings

Keldor stared at the open, hissing mouth with its dagger-sized teeth and thought for a moment that he was about to die. Eaten alive by a Dylinx without ever even reaching the first artifact. 

Desperately, he kicked up. His boot catching the massive cat in the abdomen. 

The blow barely phased the animal. Keldor’s foot connected with mostly solid muscle and thick fur. He certainly didn’t cause any kind of damage. But it did make the creature flinch enough for Keldor to crab-scuttle backwards on the heels of his hands. Getting out from under the Dylinx’s jaws. 

Once he was clear, he jumped to his feet and drew his swords. Unsnapping the hilts, he held one blade in each hand. 

The cat jumped at him and Keldor slashed at it with both swords, slicing into the animal’s paw. Blood spattered on the ground. 

When the Dylinx landed, it fell with a whimper of pain and lashed out at Keldor with its other, uninjured, paw. The abrupt and jerky action causing more blood to gush from the opened paw. 

He jumped out of the way. 

And the animal took off running. Limping, and leaving a trail of blood behind it. But Keldor had successfully frightened it off. 

No Dylinx would be eating him this day! 

Keldor dabbed at his own injuries with salve from his pack and continued on his journey. 

As he headed into the jungle, he noted the trail of blood and bent underbrush. The direction he was going, he was also inadvertently following the injured Dylinx. He already fended the creature off once, but animals were more vicious when injured. He would have to be careful in case he crossed paths with it again. 

Then he heard an odd little animal cry Keldor had never heard before. Like a little house cat, but gravely. More rolling than a straight meow. And urgent in some way. Like it needed something and didn’t understand why its needs weren’t being met. 

More curious than anything else, Keldor followed the cry.

Then froze when he came upon the exact same Dylinx that had attacked him earlier. 

The massive cat was laying on its side in front of a large tree with a hollowed out segment of trunk. …and it wasn’t moving. 

From the injured paw, blood soaked into the soil. Apparently, Keldor must have cut an artery. The Dylinx bled out uncontrollably until it died. 

But, if the animal was dead, then what made that strange, urgent little mewing sound?

Toeing at the Dylinx with his boot, Keldor prodded at the animal to make sure it was in fact dead. When the injured creature made no move in protest, he concluded that, yes, it was dead. 

Then something moved behind it. 

In the hollowed-out segment of the tree the massive cat was stretched out in front of. A dark colored something. A tiny little ball of fluff with ears. Then another desperate mewing cry. Opening a mouth to meow with another one of those rolling meows, showing a pink tongue and needle-like white teeth. 

A cub. 

The Dylinx Keldor killed had a cub. 

Damn it!

Climbing over the body of the mother cat, Keldor reached into the hollow and grabbed onto the scruff of the cub’s neck. 

It was small. Tiny, in comparison to the parent’s body. The only one in the litter, since Keldor didn’t see any other cubs in the hollow with it. It was a cute little thing. More fluff than body. A dark color, almost black, but when the few rays of moonlight that managed to stream between the trees caught it, the fur shone a dark purple rather than a true black. The cub opened its mouth again for another desperate, begging meow. Showing tiny thin kitten teeth and a very pink mouth. 

Everything about it was so cute. It was hard to believe that this was a creature that was going to grow up into such a massive and ferocious beast. 

Keldor held the cub close to his chest, tucking it into the crook of one arm and tucking his cape around it. 

“I’m sorry I killed your mother, little one.” He muttered to the cub. Keldor also knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. At least he had a father to care for him. “I guess I’m kinda honor-bound to take care of you now.”

The cub did not respond to this. In fact, he was not even listening. Instead, he tried to bite Keldor’s nipple which was exposed between the bandoliers holding his cape on his shoulders. 

Keldor yelp and held the cub away from himself, staring the tiny creature down. 

It only made another one of those desperate, needy cries. 

“Guess you’re hungry, huh.” He concluded. “Well, I’m not a lactating female, so I can’t feed you on my own.”

But if he made it to the Fantos village, maybe someone there would know how to feed a Dylinx cub that hadn’t yet been weaned off its mother. 

“If you can just hold on for a few more hours, I’ll get you something to eat, little one.” He promised the cub. 

He wrapped his cape tighter around the cub, making sure the fabric was also between the animal and his chest in case it decided to try for his nipple again. Then continued walking. All the while, the cub kept making that same desperate, needy, little cry. 

It was late by the time he reached something that resembled a settlement. And the cub had cried itself into exhaustion and was asleep wrapped up in Keldor’s cape. 

It was a semi-circle of buildings. With private homes up in the trees, supported by the thick branches and interlocking vines. But communal buildings on jungle floor; council champer and meeting hall, Goddess’ shrine, and travelers’ inn. 

Keldor didn’t know if it was the Fantos village or not, he didn’t see anything that looked like an ancient temple, but at that exact moment, he didn’t care. His main priority was the tiny cub who’s mother he killed and was now responsible for. Keldor burst into the travelers’ inn, startling the innkeeper and the handful of few patrons that sat around the tables in the inn’s tavern. 

“Does anyone know anything about Dylinx?” He asked of the room. 

All eyes in the room looked up at him. 

“What’ve ya got there?” Asked a male Beastmen. He was easily the tallest person in the room, even hunched over as he was. With thick, reddish-brown fur, wearing a teal loincloth, with a whip coiled at his hip. 

Keldor crossed the room to him, assuming his answering meant that he did, in fact, know about Dylinx. Keldor laid his bundled up cape down on the table the Beastmen had been sitting at, and unwrapped the tiny cub. It gave a little whimper at no longer being wrapped in warmth or cuddled close to a warm body, and pawed at the cape, trying to burrow back under its folds. Then the cub opened its eyes and gave another needy rumbling meow. 

The Beastmen blinked at the cub. He was not expecting the stranger to plop down a whole ass cat in front of him. 

“It’s so young.” The Beastmen picked the cub up and examined it. “Must be only five weeks! Too young to be away from the mother.” Then the Beastmen turned suspicious and accusatory eyes on Keldor. “How did you get a cub this young away from the mother?”

Behind the bar, the bartender set down the rag they were using to wipe at a glass, and instead reached for a cleaver concealed under the bar. “You another poacher?”

Keldor was keenly aware of a change in the air. 

He jumped back from the table, but not fast enough. The Beastmen reached across the table with one massive arm and grabbed Keldor by the shoulder, slamming his face down on the table next to the tiny Dylinx cub. The Beastman’s other hand grabbing Keldor’s arm and pulling it flat over the table. 

The bartender came out from around the bar, cleaver in hand. “We don’t take kindly to poachers in our jungle.”

The Beastman’s grip on Keldor’s arm tightened and he was keenly aware that it was also the hand closest to the advancing cleaver. 

Eternos did not punish crimes with dismemberment anymore, that was old justice from a different time. But other territories outside the city still kept some of the old ways, and the penalty for kidnapping, or poaching, was to sever the villain’s snatching hands. 

“I’m not a poacher!” Keldor shouted into the wood of the table. 

“That’s what every poacher says when they’re caught!” Snapped the bartender. 

“I can’t stand bastard who mistreat animals!” Added the Beastmen. 

“I command you to release me!” Keldor roared, still unable to lift his head. The Beastmen holding him down was so strong. Keldor tried to put as much regal, princely command into his voice as he could when half his mouth scraped across the table as he spoke. “In the name of King Miro of the House of Volnar, you will-“

The Beastmen silenced him by shoving his head harder into the table. Squeezing Keldor’s face into the wood, making his skull ache under the pressure. “It’s Miro’s law.”

But dismemberment was not Miro’s punishment. 

From another table, near the back of the tavern, half shadowed, someone else stood from their table and walked slowly up to them. 

They leaned over Keldor, examining what he carried on his back. Bracing one hand on the table, close to his face. The hand, the only part of the other person Keldor could see, was shaped like a human hand. Four fingers and a thumb. But the skin covering it was blue. Almost the exact same shade of jewel-blue as Keldor’s own skin. 

“You’ll be wantin’ to release ‘im.” Said the newcomer, addressing the bartender holding the cleaver and the Beastmen holding Keldor. 

“He with you?” Acused the bartender. 

“Not all Gar know each other.” The newcomer informed them. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end this piece of shit right now!” Demanded the Beastmen. 

“Here’s a pretty good reason.” The newcomer, the other Gar, pulled the sword from the harness on Keldor’s back. He tossed it on the table so the others could see. A dual bladed great sword. Large and heavy, but with a trick to it. The dual blades snapped apart to become two separate but identical swords. “Fancy weapon. Like the kind they only make in Eternos. Not many can afford such fancy work. Ain’t never heard o’ no Gar rich enough to afford an Eternos blade.” A pause. “’Cept one.” 

There was a pregnant pause. 

The unnamed Gar let the implication hang in the air around them. 

“What one?” The Beastmen finally asked, not being able to put together the Gar’s insinuation. 

The bartender dropped their cleaver. “Prince Keldor!” They, at least, could figure it out. “Oh, I am so, so sorry, Your Highness! Raq, let him up! This is the future King!”

Keldor felt the pressure disappear from his head as the Beastmen listed his hand. He stood back up, massaging his shoulders and neck. “Dismemberment was ruled unnecessarily cruel and was declared illegal.” He reminded them. “If you had taken my hand, my father would have taken your lives.”

“Sounds ‘bout right.” The other Gar mutter, so softly one would have to have pointed ears to catch it. 

Keldor turned to ask him his meaning, but the other Gar was already walking back to his half-shadowed table against the wall. His back was to Keldor. Even after he sat down, his face was mostly in shadow so that all that could be seen on him was the lower half of his jaw. 

The cub on the table gave another desperate cry and everyone’s attention returned to it. 

The Beastmen, Raq, wrapped the cub back up in Keldor’s cape. “He needs to stay warm.” He explained. “Dylinx cubs can’t regulate their own body temperatures. They need their mothers to keep them warm or else they die. They also need near constant feeding to support rapid growth. How long has he been without his mother?”

Keldor thought. “It was early evening when the mother attacked me.” He began, talking through his math. “I found the cub not long after. Then it took us a while to get here. Four hours maybe?”

“That’s not bad.” Raq decided. He passed the bundle back to Keldor. “Hold him against your chest. Make sure his body is against you skin and his other side is covered by the blanket. Keep him warm. I have to mix something up with the right vitamin balance.”

“Wha-!?” Keldor barely had time to react before his arms were suddenly once again filled with tiny, needy Dylinx cub. 

Raq left the tavern.

“So, I’ll just wait here then!” Keldor shouted after the swinging tavern door. 

He flopped down in a chair at the table Raq just abandoned. 

The bartender placed a tankard of frothy beer on the table next to him. “On the house, Your Highness. Sorry for almost maiming you.”

Keldor looked at the beer. It did look inviting. But he had been traveling for days now. Hard nights sleeping on the ground or in trees. Drinking water from wild streams, or stale from his waterskin. Eating the dried and preserved foodstuffs from his pack. Beer was not what he needed right now. 

“Water, instead.” Keldor told the bartender. “And something hot to eat, if you’ve got it.”

“I have a vegetable stew, Your Highness.” Nodded the bartender, then left quickly to fill the Prince’s order. 

Still holding the cub against his chest, Keldor looked back to the shadowed table against the wall. The table the other Gar sat at. He’d never met another member of his race before. …of his second race. Keldor grew up among humans. He had never even seen another Gar within the walls of Eternos. Standing, Keldor crossed the room to him.

He pulled out a second chair and sat down without being invited. “I hope this isn’t a private table.”

The other Gar just looked at him. “Wouldn’t matter if it was, Your Highness.” Somehow, he managed to make ‘your highness’ sound like ‘you entitled bastard’. “Fancy lad like you, I ‘xpect you’re used to getting what you want.”

For half a second, Keldor was about to argue and explain the nuances of growing up a half-breed in a mostly human court, and inform the other man that, no, he was not actually used to getting what he wanted all the time. Anything he wanted that wasn’t superficial like what he preferred to eat for dinner, had to be explained and justified before he could have it. 

But then, Keldor realized, this other Gar who grew up away from the capital and didn’t know anything about him except that he was a Prince probably wasn’t interested in the nuances of growing up a bastard non-human in a royal court. 

So, instead, Keldor just said, “I’ve never met another Gar before.”

“Well, I ain’t never met a Prince before.” Said the other Gar. “Guess that makes us some kinda even.”

He seemed very standoffish and cagey. And he was still sitting mostly in shadow. Even up close, all Keldor would see was the lower half of his jaw. A wide jaw with a square chin and thin lower lip. 

Lifting his free hand, the other still clutching the cub to his chest, Keldor muttered a short spell and formed a ball of witchlight in his palm. He set it floating above the table, illuminating the both of them in soft warm light. 

The other Gar’s features were different from what he expected. Keldor had never seen another Gar before, and his father refused to talk about his mother. Keldor, when he was younger, would sometimes spend hours staring in the mirror looking at his own reflection, trying to discern his non-human features from his human ones. He had his father’s brow, nose, and cheekbones. But Keldor wasn’t sure what he got from his mother aside from the obvious skin and ears. 

This Gar had a wide face and larger ears. A high forehead like Keldor had, but the hairline was hidden under a curtain of messy black waves. The eyebrows were thin, and the eyes beneath them even thinner, very narrow and sharp. They didn’t look quite right on such a square face. But then, Keldor also realized that he was viewing this Gar’s features through a lens of what humans found attractive. This other Gar might be very handsome by full-blood Gar standards. 

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” Keldor announced. “You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

“Leaving.” The other Gar informed him. “I’m leaving.”

He stood from the table, reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out two silver coins and tossed them on the table. Keldor noticed that while they were Eternos standard mint, they were older coins. From his grandfather’s rule, King Volnar the Bold. He supposed lots of old coins stayed in circulation the farther out from Eternos one traveled. 

The Gar paused before leaving the tavern, though. Turning back to Keldor. 

“Funny thing ‘bout poachers.” He said, “they don’ poach what they can’t sell. An’ Dylinx don’ go down easily. ‘Course that grit’s what make ‘em so attractive to the buyers. Lotta rich sorcerers willing to pay pretty coin for a powerful Dylinx, or even just their parts. Use ‘em for their spells and such.” He paused meaningfully and locked eyes with Keldor. “I heard tell you was a sorcerer. Being a fancy Eternos Prince ya gotta be rich too.”

Unconsciously, Keldor clutched the tiny Dylinx cub closer to his chest. It was so small and cute. He could not imagine anyone wanting to hurt such a tiny and fluffy little thing. “That is dark sorcery.”

The other Gar only shrugged. “Wha’do I know. I ain’t no sorcerer.”

He left. 

The bartender came up to Keldor’s new table and set a glass of cold water and a bowl of hot stew in front of him, and a separate plate of fried plantains. 

“I’d be careful about associating with other Gar outside Eternos, Your Highness.” The bartender informed him. “Anwatd Gar is just off the coast here and we occasionally get one or two of them trying to escape their island.”

“You get many Gar here?” Keldor asked. 

“A fair few.” Nodded the bartender. “On clear days you can even see across the water to the mist that shrouds their cursed island.” A quick pause. “I mean- that’s not to say that Your Highness is cursed. Just that the island’s been cursed.” 

It was not the first time Keldor had heard the Gar referred to as a ‘cursed people’ and it probably wouldn’t be the last. In fact, he would likely be hearing it more and more the farther out from Eternos he traveled. 

“Breaking out of the curse and getting through the mist is hard,” continued the Bartender, “only a few Gar have been able to do it, and those that have are hard and mean. Like Kronis.” They nodded to the door the other Gar just left through. “Can’t say for sure that Kronis is doing any crime, but nobody ever sees him work, but he’s always got plenty of silver to for his drink.”

The other Gar, Kronis apparently, was certainly standoffish and cagy. But that didn’t mean he was a criminal. We Anwat Gar really was cursed and he had to break through a magical barrier to get off the island, it would certainly explain why he was hostile and repellant, trying to keep people at a distance. 

It occurred to Keldor then that neither his father, nor Count Marzo ever shared details of how they got off Anwat Gar. Just that father was trapped there and couldn’t escape on his own and stayed long enough to have an affair with a native, father a child, and have his lover carry that child to term and give birth before Marzo showed up to rescue him. 

Being a sorcerer, Keldor supposed Marzo could have used his magic to punch a hole in the barrier. But that also depended on the nature of the curse. 

Keldor didn’t actually want to know. 

Instead, he decided to change the subject. “How far from here is Fantos?”

“Fantos?” The bartender wiped their hands on their apron. “Just a bit farther inland. Jungle’s not very big. We’re all pretty close together in here. “Maybe ‘bout a morning’s walk west.”

“Then I’ll leave for Fantos in the morning.” Keldor nodded. “I’ll need a room for the night, do you have one available?”

Keldor reached for his purse, pulling out a handful of shiny new Eternos mint silver coins. Kronis put two silvers on the table when he left, so for a room for one night and probably breakfast tomorrow Keldor put five silvers on the table.

The bartender did not haggle over the price. They just swiped the coins off the table and deposited them in their apron pocket. “I’ll make a room up for you immediately, Your Highness.”

They vanished up the stairs.

Keldor dug into the strew. Thick cut carrots, wedges of potato, barley for substance, onion for spice, and a tomato base with some spices he couldn’t identify. It needed a little salt. It wasn’t bland but it was different to what he was used to eating at the palace. But after eating cold and dried foods for three days, being fresh and hot made it feel like the best meal he’d ever had. 

He ate one handed, the other arm supporting the cub against his chest. 

It wriggled in his hold. Warm, but not comfortable. The scent he was surrounded by did not smell like his mother. It felt ‘safe’ but not like ‘home’. He was still hungry and the furless blue nipple he kept trying to suckle at offered no milk. The cub let out another desperate rolling meow. Where was mama? Why wasn’t she coming to feed him? Who was this bald furless creature anyway? He hadn’t tried to eat him yet, so he obviously wasn’t a predator. But he wasn’t mama either…

Raq reentered the tavern, saw Keldor sitting at the table near the back and crossed the room to him. He placed a tiny bottle on the table next to his bowl of stew. “For the cub.” He said, then paused. “Do you know how to feed a baby animal?”

“I don’t even know how to feed a baby-baby.” Keldor informed him. 

With a sigh, the Beastmen pulled out Kronis’ empty chair and dragged it over next to Keldor. “Open up the blanket, let’s take a look at him.”

Setting his spoon down beside the soup bowl, Keldor unwrapped his cape from the cub. It looked at both of them with wide scared eyes and made another desperate rumbling meow. Urging them to understand. He was hungry! Where was mama!?

“Hold him level.” Raq commanded. “On his belly, not his back. He’s not a human or a Gar baby. If you try and hold him on his back while feeding him he could choke and die.”

Dylinx cubs were starting to sound so fragile and easily killable to Keldor. It was hard to believe this was the infant form of an apex predator. 

But Keldor did as he was instructed. Holding the cub in one hand, the cat’s belly resting in his palm. He picked up the tiny bottle and held the nipple in front of the cub’s face. It sniffed at the bottle, unsure of what it was or if it wanted to drink it or not. It didn’t smell like mama. But it did smell like food. 

After a prolonged pause, the cub opened its mouth and started nursing at the tiny bottle. Its paws kneading at Keldor’s hand holding the bottle. 

It was the cutest thing Keldor had ever experienced, and he felt the oddest feeling of warm fuzzies well up inside him. If Kronis was right and other sorcerers used Dylinx in their sorcery, they would not get their hands on this little cub. This one was Keldor’s. Mine. So fuzzy and dark. But with vivid green eyes and sharp teeth. Like a miniature panther. 

“Panthor.” Keldor decided. 

In the other chair, the Beastman gave a short clip of a laugh. “Welp, if there was any doubt left in me that you’re a poacher, that got rid of it.”

“What?” Keldor looked up at him, confused. 

“You’ve named him.” Raq pointed out. “Once you name him, he’s yours. Dylinx are incredible animals. They have a reputation for being vicious and difficult to tame. But if you take good care of one, nurture it and don’t mistreat him, you’ll have a companion for life.”

“Sounds nice.” Keldor nodded. He felt the inexplicable urge to bend his head down and nuzzle the cub with his face. But he didn’t. He was a Prince, and such behavior was undignified. He shook his head; he couldn’t keep the jungle cat anyway. If it was going to grow as large as the mother was, he couldn’t keep a creature like that in the palace. “But I’ll have a release him back into the wild once he’d grown enough to take care of himself.”

The Beastmen only flashed a knowing smirk. Like he said, Dylinx could be fiercely loyal. If he took good enough care of that cub that he could be released back into the wild, then the Dylinx would not return to the wild. But the Prince would figure that out on his own when it happened. 

“I’m Raqquill, by the way.” Announced the Beastmen. 

“Keldor.” He supplied. “But you already knew that.”

“And this little guy is Panthor now.” Raqquill reached one of his massive hands out to pet the tiny cub. Just one of his large fingers was almost the length of the cub’s whole body (not counting the tail). “He should sleep with you, to keep him warm. And you’ll have to wake up every couple hours to repeat feedings. I can give you more bottles of formula. He’s already old enough to be weaned off the bottle, but you’ll have to do it slowly. Cooking meats before feeding him will help him absorb the nutrients, but his teeth are still small. You might have to pre-chew it for him. And you’ll have to massage his hind quarters and his anus to encourage him to defecate.”

Keldor blinked up at him. “I have to what now?”

“It’s all part of taking care of an infant cat if you want to keep him healthy.” Raqquill assured him. “But if you do it for him, you’ll have a very strong companion for life.”


	6. A Strange Visitor

At first it just looked like a comet. 

Just a line of orange light with a brown tail streaking across the sky. 

But as it descended down on the planet, the orange comet turned into a ball of fire with a plume of smoke trailing behind it. A sonic boom rocked the air, heralding its crash. 

Minutes later, a craft barreled into the ground. Digging a deep track in the Fertile Plains as it scraped over the ground. Throwing up dirt and tall grass. Finally, it came to rest under a pile of its own thrown-up debris. Dirt and grass from the plains, and bits of the craft itself that were dislodged during the descent. 

Frightened villagers called the royal guard in Eternos, and the royal guard -Captain Duncan- woke Prince Randor. 

Strange crafts from beyond the stars falling to Eternia -and falling to Eternia close to the capital- seemed like something someone in charge should know about. 

Duncan intended just to give Randor a quick report to make sure he was appraised of the situation, then head out to meet Dekker and the rest of the guard out by the crash site. He was not expecting Randor to jump out of bed, get dressed in a hurry, grab his sword, and invite himself along to investigate the fallen craft. 

“You really don’t need to.” Duncan assured him as Randor was already climbing into a Wind Raider. “In fact, I think you’re not even supposed to. You’re the last member of the royal family left in the city. I can’t bring you into an unknown situation. What if you got hurt?”

“I can defend myself.” Randor assured him, patting the hilt of his sword over his shoulder. “And I can’t just sit in chairs the whole time Keldor’s gone. I need to do something. Let me intercept aliens with you.”

All men in the House of Miro were stubborn. Duncan knew this. Arguing with Randor was pointless. 

That was how the Prince ended up standing between Duncan and Dekker, on the edge of the long track the craft had carved into the landscape when it crashed. 

The outer hull of the craft looked blackened, like it was burnt up as if fell to the planet. But the original color under the burn looked to be a shade of white, or a color just off from white. It had tapered wings on the sides, but they looked too short in comparison to the length of the craft to have been able to function well in an atmosphere. There was a crest on each wing, something none of them recognized. A blue circle with an arching red flourish, overlayed with four characters of a language none of them had ever seen before. 

“Where do you think it came from?” Duncan asked Dekker. 

Dekker only shrugged. He didn’t know. Eternia was aware of the existence of other worlds. And it stood to reason that if there were other worlds, then there were other peoples on those words. But they had never met anyone from those worlds. Eternia hadn’t even visited their own moons. 

“What if there’s people inside.” Randor sounded concerned. 

He jumped down the embankment, sliding on the loose dirt of the slope, and ran to the craft. 

Randor didn’t know anything about the craft or where its entrances might be. At first, he tried making his way in through one of the three tunnel-like cylinders in what he assumed was the aft section. After a quick try, though, he realized that they were not an entrance and in fact some sort of jet or thruster. Like they had on the Wind Raiders, but much, much larger. 

Walking around the side and examining the charred shell, Randor instead found a hatch. Mostly rectangle shaped, but with the corners rounded off, and it was just the right size for a creature roughly the size of an average human. 

He tried the hatch. It didn’t open at first. So Randor drew his sword and used it as a pry-bar to leverage the hatch open. 

There was the hiss of air as the pressure inside the craft equalized with the pressure inside the craft. Randor had the sudden and terrifying though of where or not the aliens inside could breathe Eternian air, or if he’d just killed them by trying to save there. But there was only one way to find out. 

Randor stepped inside the craft. 

“What in the Goddess’ name is he doing?” Dekker asked as he and Duncan watched their Prince take point.

“Putting himself in unnecessary danger.” Duncan growled at his mentor. Being Randor’s friend was fun and easy. Being his bodyguard was impossibly nerve-racking and hard. 

Jumping down the slope, following almost the same path Randor took, Duncan followed his Prince down to the craft and followed him inside the hatch. 

It was tight inside. The walls narrow and close together, the ceilings short. Every wall was covered in what looked like screens, or readout consoles, and their corresponding key pads or typing boards. It must have all be standing room only because there were chairs of places to sit at the consoles. Only grab-bars, spaced less than a meter apart. 

Randor followed the corridor heading for the nose of the craft, and Duncan followed Randor. 

There was a person aboard. 

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit. Not like the leotards that were common clothing on Eternia which left legs and often times the arms exposed. This jumpsuit covered everything from their collar down to their boots, long sleeves and long legged. With black gloves covering their hands, the gloves looking like they snapped into the sleeve of the jumpsuit forming a seal. It was the same with the boots. The solid looking work boots they were wearing were similarly sealed together with the pant legs of the jumpsuit. 

The helmet and vizor they wore over their head, however, was not sealed. 

Randor reached up to lift the helmet from their head. 

“Don’t!” Duncan tried snapping. 

But it was too late. Randor lifted the helmet off the alien’s head. 

They were both of them surprised to see the face of another human. They would have thought that a strange visitor from beyond the stars would look nothing like them. But this person was definitely human. 

Female from the general features in the face, of course he couldn’t fully conclude that until they woke up and could share their pronouns. With pale skin like they hadn’t seen the light of a sun in a long time, but was still dotted with tiny brown freckles over their nose and cheeks. And red hair, flaming red hair, redder than Duncan’s hair was red. It was cut short and after just coming out of a helmet was sticking out in all odd directions. 

There was a slight bump on their forehead where they must have hit their head on something in the cockpit. Hence their current unconscious state. It was a lucky thing they were wearing their helmet because if it was strong enough to knock them out with the armor on, then the blow definitely would have killed them had they not been wearing their helmet. 

While Randor was busy staring at the alien’s face, Duncan fiddled with one of the gloves until he was able to figure out the seal that connected it to the sleeve of the suit. He pulled the glove off and pushed the hem of the sleeve up enough to be able to lay two fingers flat against the inside of their wrist, checking a pulse. 

“They’re still alive.” Duncan announced. 

“And they’re breathing.” Randor added, he was close enough he could feel it on the stubble on his chin. “We need to get them to the palace. They need a healer.”

Randor began unclasping the crash harnesses that kept the alien bound to their chair. 

“You don’t even know what they are or why they came to Eternia!” Duncan pointed out. 

“I know they’re injured and need help.” Randor informed him. “That should be enough.”

…

With a burst of adrenaline, Lieutenant Marlena Glenn started awake. Her mind picking up right where it left off, thinking she was still in the midst of a crash. She catapulted up into a sitting position and threw her arms up to shield her face. 

Only after a moment of absolutely nothing happening did Marlena realize that she was not still crashing and, in fact, was not even on her shuttle at all. 

Lowering her arms, Marlena looked around, not recognizing her surroundings. 

She was in a bed. A very large bed, a soft luxury mattress in an ornately carved frame with tall bedposts. Definitely not standard issue. This was not any version of an Earth colony or outpost. 

Pushing back the blankets and crawling out of bed, Marlena noted that her flight suit had been removed. She was wearing only her thank-top, panties, and socks. Alarmed, she gave herself a quick pat down to make sure nothing else was amiss. If whoever -or whatever she supposed- had found her had removed her clothes while she was unconscious, it was possible they might have done other things to her while she was unconscious. 

All she found were bandages covering a number of superficial cuts over her body, and one large bandage on her forehead, off to one side. She prodded it with a finger and was rewarded with an immense pain lancing through her skull. That was probably the cause of her blackout and the reason she was waking up in a place with no memory of how she got there. 

Raising her eyes, Marlena examined the room she was in. The large bed wasn’t the only thing of luxury in the room. The carpet was thick and fuzzy, her socks dug into the fibers, leaving behind footprints. There was a door off to one side. 

Padding across the room, Marlena opened it to discover a tiled floor, marble counter with a basin in the middle, a porcelain tub, and a… uh, a chamber pot with a velvet upholstered chair back? Upon closer inspection, Marlina discovered that it was not a chamber pot. It was just shaped like one. It was a flush toilet. Indoor plumbing and everything. A tassel on a gold-colored cord dangled at about eye-level if she were sitting on the pot, and a quick tug of the cord confirmed that it did, indeed, flush. This was a bathroom. 

She went back to the main room. 

There was another door, almost facing the bed. When she opened this one, she discovered that it opened out into a hallway. She went back into the room. Marlena was not about to start wandering aimlessly around… wherever she was. Not until she knew where she was, or what kind of situation she was in. 

Clearly, Marlena was not a prisoner. Her door was not locked, she was not trapped in the space they set aside for her. And she wasn’t restrained or cuffed in any way. But just because she wasn’t a prisoner didn’t mean she was safe. 

The only other exit from her room was a set of double doors, a wooden frame with an almost French design, inlayed with glass. Opening them, Marlena stepped out onto a balcony. Stone, polished to an almost shine, she imagined it was probably very slippery when wet. There wasn’t much else of note on the balcony. Except the view. 

Marlena couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. Crossing the balcony to rest her hands on the railing made of the same stone as the rest of it. 

She stood looking out over a large city. With tall buildings, most made of white stone, the largest ones with domed roofs covered in gold leaf and shining in the sun. Streets paved in yet more stone. Roads winding and intersecting on random and curving paths. Clearly, the city was not built with much civic planning in mind. There was almost no gridding to speak of. Marlena’s vantagepoint was so high up, she had to be in what might be the tallest building in the city. 

Of course, Marlena still didn’t know where she was. 

Only way to find that out was to explore. For that she needed clothes. 

Marlena went back into the room. There was a wardrobe, but when she opened it, she discovered it was empty. She had no clothes. She wasn’t locked in the room, but without clothing where could she go? She was as good as locked in this room until someone came to get her. 

…

Dekker had the craft dug out from where it had crashed and dragged to Eternos to be studied. 

Orius, the head scientist of the court was given the task of examining the crafts and -hopefully- understanding it and its pilot. 

Duncan was not really a scientist; he was an armature at best. But he did have an interest in the scientific method, experimentation, and mechanics, so he volunteered to guard the craft while Orius worked on it. 

“This thing is almost all engines!” Duncan exclaimed as he watched Orius take apart the massive craft. 

“It needs it to get off the planet.” Orius informed him. 

“That can’t be right.” Duncan continued to stare at the craft. “Our Wind Raiders only have one small thruster, and they don’t have any problems getting off the ground.”

“Our Wind Raiders are small lightweight craft, and they aren’t breaking free of a planet’s pull.” Orius explained. “Plus, it looks like this thing runs off a different kind of fuel than what we use.”

Just as he said this, Orius released the pressure valve on a tank and was sprayed with some kind of fluid. 

Duncan rushed to his side. 

“No, don’t come any closer.” Orius threw his hands up, the picture of messy calm. “I’m covered in a highly volatile element. It seems they use liquid hydrogen as propellant.”

“Hydrogen?” Duncan echoed. “The unstable gas?”

“Gimme a sec.” Orius picked up a bucket from the worktable where he had all his tools and some parts laid out. Orius dumped the bucket over his head, dousing himself with water. 

Duncan just stared at him, unsure if that was the best approach to dealing with a highly volatile propellant. 

“What?” Orius shrugged at him. “Water is, like, two thirds hydrogen already.”

“I don’t- I don’t think that’s how that’s supposed to work.” Duncan admitted. But, then again, he wasn’t really an Eternian scientist, he was just a dabbler who liked to take apart his Wind Raider and put it back together to see how the pieces all worked together. Sometimes he liked to tinker and build his own simple inventions. But he wasn’t on the same level as Orius. 

The scientist only shrugged, and massaged his neck. “Well, if everything blows up, you can tell me ‘I told you so’.”

“If the palace blows up, I’m sure telling you ‘I told you so’ will be the least of my priorities.” Duncan promised. 

“The palace is blowing up now?” 

Orius dropped to one knee in a bow, just as Duncan turned around at the voice. 

Randor stood behind him. 

“Ran- uh, Your Highness.” Duncan also offered a respectful bow, although he did not go all the way to the floor. “I thought you would still be in meetings.”

“The arrival of a visitor from beyond the stars has stirred up a lot of things.” Randor announced by way of explanation. “Lots of people are concerned for what this might mean for Eternia and even more of them are scared. I was hoping Orius might be able to tell me something that could put their fears at ease. Orius, get up off the floor!” To Duncan he added, “This is only my first stop. After I check in here, I was going to go see if the strange visitor themself has woken up yet.”

“I don’t want you alone in a room with a strange visitor from another planet.” Duncan informed him flatly. 

“Then come with me.” Randor shrugged. “Be the big strong hero with a trouble past and brooding nature that that has to protect the fair wilting flower prince with a pure heart and gentle spirit.”

Randor did an overly dramatic impression of fainting and fell into Duncan’s arms. 

“Get off me!” Duncan also noted that Randor had not taken his sword off since they pulled the seemingly alien-human from their craft. 

“You’re right.” Randor straightened. “If Keldor were here he’d be all stiff and constipated about everything.” 

“Didn’t you come here to ask Orius something!” Duncan snapped. 

The scientist was waiting patiently for the Prince to finish… whatever the hell it was he was doing with the Captain of the guard. When he noticed that they were finally giving him their attention, Orius did have some answers to offer. 

“I can assure you that this was not a war vessel.” He began. “There are not exterior weapons. However, it was not a people carrier either. There is little to no seating room. Just the two chairs in the cockpit, which I assume they also slept in as I’ve found no bunk or other sleeping quarters yet. If you asked me to formulate a hypothesis right now before completing my examination, I’d say this was probably an exploration vessel.”

Randor nodded. Just an explorer. That was good. “Thank you, Orius.”

He turned to leave the hanger and Duncan fell into step behind him. If Randor really was going to see the alien next, then he wanted to be there to protect his friend. 

They placed the alien in a hastily made-up room in the guest wing of the palace. 

Count Marzo met them at the landing atop the stairs. 

“Your Highness,” he bowed politely, “I understand you might not be as comfortable handling sensitive situations such as these without your brother, and I’ve come to offer my assistance.”

Next to Randor, Duncan’s nose crinkled. How would Marzo be any better equipped than Randor -than any Eternian for that matter- for dealing with an alien? Eternia had never been visited by off-worlders in the current era. It was said that the Cave Dwellers and Gar once immigrated to Eternia from other worlds, but that was ages ago. During the Preternia Era. Before the monarchy, then each territory governed itself independently with only minor intervention from a planetary Council of Elders. 

No one who was alive today had any experience meeting an alien. 

But Randor did not share Duncan’s skeptical mind. He welcomed Count Marzo’s help and took the offer at face value. 

“We were just heading there now.” Randor nodded. 

He led both Duncan and Marzo down the corridor to the room he had the alien confined to. Randor was about to open the door when Duncan stopped him. 

“We’re dealing with an unknown creature here, Your Highness.” He reminded his friend. “Better let me go first.”

Duncan eased the door open slowly. Then paused when he noted that the bed they left the unconscious alien sleeping in was empty. 

No sooner did he have the chance to register this, however, than something came striking out from behind the door and impacted his boot right at the ankle. It wasn’t enough to cause damage, but it was enough to cause him to lose his balance. Duncan went down. As he was falling, he caught sight of the alien, hiding behind the door, her leg poised to deal another kick. 

Duncan was already rolling out of the way by the time his body hit the floor. 

“Stay back!” He called the to the Prince and Count still standing in the corridor. “They’re awake! And they’re hostile!”

The alien jumped on Duncan, pinning him to the floor. 

Randor did not stay back. He rushed in to help his friend. “Let him go!”

But he didn’t do much else than shout at them. The alien had his friend pinned as their hostage, and Randor didn’t know what kind of powers this person from beyond the stars had. They looked human. But that didn’t mean they were human. Even if they were human, they could be a powerful sorcerer and possess terrifying magic. Randor didn’t know. 

The alien spoke, but their language was unfamiliar to him and Randor didn’t understand a word of it. 

“What?”

Their eyes flashed with recognition that if they were going to communicate, it wasn’t going to be in words. The alien cast their eyes around the room, looking for something to indicate their meaning. 

They brought their wrists together, the expression on their face questioning. 

“You’re arms hurt?” Randor asked. 

“As the person they just took down, I’m willing to believe that they’re in good health.” Duncan commented dryly. To the alien he asked, “You want wrist guards or bracers?”

The alien only stared at them with incomprehension. With the language barrier, there was no way to know if Randor and Duncan understood what they were trying to communicate, even if they did understand. Which, at the moment, they did not.

Marzo placed a hand on Randor’s shoulder. “If you’ll permit me, Your Highness, I know a spell for understanding.”

Nodding, Randor stepped out of the doorway to let Marzo through. 

He raised his hands above the alien and muttered an incantation. His hands glowed with the power of his spell, and the alien’s throat and ears glowed golden for half a moment. They placed a hand to each, feeling an odd sensation as the spell took effect. 

The next time the alien opened their mouth, they all understood. “What the hell was that!?”

All three Eternians breathed a sigh of relief. 

“We can understand each other now.” Randor smiled as if this solved every problem in the world. 

“You speak English!” The alien stared gape-mouthed up at him. 

“We’re actually speaking Standardized Eternian Common.” Marzo informed her. “But you are hearing the language that is most familiar to you.”

“You fell on our world last night and I took you back here to have your injury treated.” Randor cut in. “I’m Randor, well, Prince Randor, actually. This here is Count Marzo, he’s pretty handy with spells in a pinch, used to be a big war hero. And the guy you’ve pinned to the ground is my Captain of the guard and I’d really appreciate it if you let him up, please.”

The alien looked down at the Captain of the guard they were holding hostage. They did not let him up. 

“Am I a prisoner here?” They demanded. 

“No.” Randor assured her. 

Duncan looked up and met Marzo’s eyes. They did not agree on much, but they did both agree that keeping the alien confined to the room was probably wise for right now. Maybe after they knew more about their visitor, Randor could give them free reign of the palace and city. But not right now.

“Where are my clothes?” The alien asked. 

“They had to be cut off you when you were patched up.” Randor explained. “I can have new ones made for you.” A pause. “If you let my Captain up.”

Still the alien did not release their hostage. “And my ship? What did you do with my ship?” 

“It’s also here.” Randor promised. “Close by, down in the hanger. My people are studying it.”

There was the beat of a pause. The alien just stared at Randor, studying him. Taking in his fur-trimmed boots and bare legs, the fur loincloth and orange tunic, more fur on the shoulders, and just the slightest stubbled of a beard that hadn’t quite grown out yet. 

They didn’t know what the alien saw in their study of the Prince, but they did release Duncan. Letting him go and crawling off of him so that they could both could stand on their own. 

Duncan practically jumped back to his feet, placing himself between his Prince and the alien. 

“We still don’t know who you are.” He reminded the room. “We brought you back here and treated your wounds. I think we’ve proven that we mean you know harm. But what assurances do we have from you?”

They looked startled for a second. As if it hadn’t even occurred to them that these big, muscular, tough looking men, might be afraid of them. 

“Oh.” They said, a little taken aback. “I’m from the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.” As if that meant anything to any of them. “I’m Lieutenant Marlena Glenn.”


	7. The Fantus Chief

It wasn’t his luxurious bed in the palace. But it was worlds better than sleeping in trees or on the hard ground. 

Even if he was woken up every two hours. 

Keldor woke up on a mattress, with his head on a pillow, a blanket covering him, and something soft and fuzzy curled up in the hollow between his pectorals. 

Lifting the blanket, Keldor looked at the little bun of black fluff. The Dylinx cub was curled into an almost perfect circle, his head pillowed on his own tail. Keldor reached under the blanket to pet him. His fur was so soft. It was hard to believe that this little puffball would grow up to be a gigantic and terrifying predator, larger than a horse, that could probably fit Keldor’s whole head in his jaws. At the moment, the cub’s nose was barely the size of one of Keldor’s fingertips. 

Woken by the pets and scratchies, the little cub blinked up at Keldor. Then let out another one of those needy little rumbling mews. 

“Right. You’re hungry.” Keldor groaned. It was not the first time he woke up to feed the cub. 

Every few hours the cub would wake him up. Either making that same desperate sounding meow of his, or else pawing at Keldor, kneading at his chest or sides, or biting at his nipples. 

This was the first time Keldor woke the cub up instead of the other way around. 

Cradling the cub as he moved, Keldor sat up and reached for the bottle on the bedside table. Raqquill had given him three bottles for the night, and the cub was pretty close to finishing the last one. Keldor yawned as the cub nursed in his arms. His eyes fixed on a point on the opposite wall, staring blankly, still half-asleep. Then he felt a rumbling in his hand and looked down. The cub was purring as he nursed at the bottle, his paws kneading at Keldor’s hand. 

“Just remember, I’m not your mother, okay.” Keldor informed the tiny cub. 

Panthor’s only response to this was to fall back asleep in Keldor’s hand. 

…

When Keldor came downstairs, carrying little Panthor in his arms, it was to find Raqquill the Beastmen in the tavern waiting for him. 

“I’m told you’re heading to Fantus.” He began. “You’ll need a guide, and this guy-“ he reached a hand out to pet Panthor “-is gonna need someone else on hand who knows how to raise baby animals.”

Keldor’s kneejerk reaction was to refuse the offer and go on alone. 

But then he remembered how it took him three days to cross the Evergreen Forest and was forced to admit that maybe he could benefit from someone who knew the area. 

Swallowing his pride, Keldor nodded. “A guide would be helpful.”

They headed out not long after Keldor had his own breakfast. 

Keldor very quickly realized that it was a wise decision to accept the Beastmen as a guide. If he thought the Evergreen Forest was bad, the Vine Jungle was even worse. The Evergreen Forest had been dense, the Vine Jungle was equally dense, with the added peril of being absolutely predatory! 

The trees and plants themselves reached out from the trees to try and grab at them. 

Carnivorous flowers tried to eat them alive. 

Keldor had to draw his sword and walk with one blade in each hand. Hacking at vines that hung in their way with one, while defending from the predatory foliage with the other. 

It was hard to believe that people actually lived here! 

Panthor spent most of the morning napping in Keldor’s hood. Completely oblivious to the peril they were in, and only waking up to white for food. 

Raqquill advised to start alternating between the bottle of formula and real meat. Just little bits of meat at first, to get his tiny stomach used to digesting solid foods. Then Panthor would go right back to sleep in Keldor’s hood. It was adorable. 

Until the cub woke up for real and decided it was time to play. Batting at Keldor’s hair, trying to capture his knot. His tiny little kitten claws got caught in Keldor’s hair, pulling strands out of the knot and making the Gar wince. 

He snapped his blades back together and held the great sword in one hand while he reached the other behind him and grabbed the little cub. “You were a lot more likeable when you were asleep.”

At Keldor’s side, Raqquill gave a bark of a laugh. “Everyone thinks baby animals are cute until they start acting like animals.”

“I don’t mind him acting like an animal.” Keldor assured his companion. “I just don’t want him tearing out my hair!”

Keldor stopped walking and set the cub on the ground, between his feet where he assumed no predatory plants would get at him, while he reached up to try and fix his hair. Taking out the knot and letting it down to comb it out with his fingers. He pulled it back again, making it as tight as he could without a comb and a mirror, and retied his knot. 

While Keldor was doing all this, Panthor decided to try and climb up his leg. 

His bare leg. 

The little cub wiggled its tiny cat butt, then jumped up, claws out. His jump put him just over Keldor’s boot, and those sharp little kitty claws dug into Keldor’s bare knee. He then started climbing up the Gar’s naked leg. 

Keldor snarled and hissed in mingled shock and pain. 

Panthor got about as high as his thigh before Keldor grabbed him again. 

But his anger at the cub melted the moment he took one look at that cute little kitten face. Seriously. It was impossible to be mad at anything that cute. 

“I’m starting to see the ferocious beast you’re gonna grow up into.” He muttered. Then passed the cub to Raqquill. “Can you carry him for a bit?”

The Beastmen took the cub from Keldor, holding him in one massive hand. He took a pendant off from around his neck, a large heavy looking medallion rendered in turquoise stone and cut to look like a sun, or a star. Something pointy. Keldor wasn’t sure. Raqquill dangled it in front of Panthor and the cub pounced on it gleefully. 

“You didn’t have any pets back in Eternos, did you?” Raqquill assumed. 

“Father always said animals belonged in the wild, not in the palace.” Keldor confirmed. “He never let Randor or me have any pets. The closest we came was the horses in the guards’ stable. I did have a stuffed tiger when I was younger. I slept with it every night.” Keldor crinkled his nose, trying to remember what happened to it. “I think father threw it away when he decided I was old enough I didn’t need it anymore…” Then Keldor shrugged. “Now I have a Cats of Eternia calendar in my office. The month of Sivan this year was a Dylinx.”

He reached a hand out to pet Panthor, but the cub grabbed it with his front paws, bit at his fingers, and kicked at his wrist with his hind paws. Keldor pulled his hand away. 

Raqquill laughed again. “Dylinx cubs play hunt and pounce on their mothers.” 

“I am not his mother.” Keldor reminded him. 

“Well, you’re close enough for him.”

Keldor separated his swords again and went back to hacking a path through the jungle. “Just make sure he doesn’t get eaten by a catcher plant for me, okay.”

They trudged through the jungle for another hour. To Keldor it felt like they weren’t making any progress at all. They kept having to stop to defend themselves from carnivorous vines, or catcher planets, and when they were moving forward, it was one step at a time, constantly having to stop and cut out a path for themselves before they could advance. 

With his dual swords, it was Keldor doing most of the cutting. Raqquill was just making sure they were heading the right direction and keeping Panthor clear of the work so that the cub didn’t get hurt. 

Seeing the vines wiggle and twitch, Panthor jumped out of Raqquill’s arms and tried pouncing on them. Tearing at the vines with his tiny kitty claws and biting at them with his tiny needle teeth. 

“Panthor, no!” Keldor shouted at the cub. 

Just in time to watch the Dylinx get scooped up and swallowed by a catcher plant.

“Panthor!” He was not prepared for the feeling watching that tiny cub get swallowed gave him. 

Keldor slashed at the neck of the plant, cutting off it’s carnivorous flower-like head. He went to his knees and ripped at the catcher plant’s petals, prying them apart until it was open enough he could pull the cat out. 

Panthor was covered in a bit of plant mucus, but he was otherwise alive, unharmed, and conscious. His fur fluffed out; his eyes wide. He crawled up Keldor’s arm until he was nestled safely in the bend of his elbow, just like how Keldor had carried him when he first found the orphan cub. 

With his other hand, Keldor stroked at the cub’s slime-slicked fur. He had no idea how to comfort a baby animal. He imagined it was similar to comforting Randor when they were children. 

But Keldor didn’t get a chance to comfort the little cub. 

The predatory vines of the jungle that they’d been hacking at all day wrapped themselves around Keldor and Raqquill. Both men found themselves suddenly immobilized. 

Panthor dropped from the precarious perch of Keldor’s elbow. 

Keldor tried swinging at the vines with his sword, but they held his arm immobile, all he could manage was an impotent tilting of his wrist. Then the vines tightened their grip, and he was forced to drop the weapon entirely. 

Raqquill snarled like the beasts his species was named for and tried biting at the vines with his teeth. 

Panthor clawed at the vines encircling Keldor, trying to free him. 

“Run away!” Keldor commanded the cat. But the Dylinx ignored him, continuing to attack the vines that were attacking his surrogate parent.

Keldor pulled harder against the vines. Trying to struggle free. Not to get away himself, but to keep his dumbass foster kitten from getting ensnared too. 

Then they heard movement in the trees. 

Not the russle of more vines slithering through the underbrush, but the consistent tempo of footsteps. Of a person walking between the trees, just behind Keldor and Raqquill. But the vines held them so tightly that they couldn’t turn around she see who was approaching them. 

What new peril was the jungle going to throw at them. 

The head of a staff came into Keldor’s peripheral vision. Then the hand that held it. A human looking hand with sun-browned kin and callused knuckles. Then a whole person came into view. 

A man wearing the traditional loincloth and sash of the Fantus people, a small shrug covering his shoulders. Chest and abdominals exposed. The midday sunlight streaming through the trees glinting off his brown skin. His black hair was unbound and hallowed around his shoulders in dark waves. The staff he carried was the Staff of Fantus, a tribal mask perched atop its head. 

The man’s eyes flicked down to the Dylinx cub clawing at Keldor’s vines, then up at Keldor himself. 

“You’re not a poacher, are you, Gar?” He demanded. 

That was the second time in as many days that someone had accused Keldor of being a poacher. Was it something about him? Or did most Gar who managed to get through the mists of Anwat Gar and make it to the mainland just happen to become poachers and villains?

“He’s from Eternos on a quest.” Raqquill informed the newcomer. “That Dylinx cub is one he rescued and it’s imprinted on him.”

The Fantus man looked back down at the cub. It did look like the tiny cat was trying to free the Gar, not attack and maul him. He raised his staff. The eyes of the mask atop it glowed, then the vines holding them trembled for a moment, then loosened. Finally, uncoiling and pulling away from Keldor and Raqquill, retreating back to the jungle trees. 

“I am the chief of the Fantus tribe.” He announced. “My people live in the heart of this jungle. What brings you this deep into the Vine Jungle?”

Keldor knelt down and offered an arm to Panthor. The Dylinx was overjoyed to jump back into his arms and curl up in the crook of his elbow and snuggle against Keldor’s side. 

“What my companion said is true.” Keldor announced. “I am on a quest. To save my father.”

He left off the explanation there. There was no need to let the leader of the Fantus tribe know he might be leaving the Vine Jungle with his tribe’s sacred stones until Keldor himself was sure that was in fact what he was going to do. He wasn’t going to bother with artifacts that were ultimately useless to him. 

“A noble goal.” Nodded the chief. “I hope my son, Merlo, is as noble a man when he grows up.”

Keldor didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. 

“Well, if you’ll allow yourself a respite on your quest, you can rest and refill you waterskins at my village.” Offered the Chief. “I’ll take you there.”

With the Fantus Chief and his magical staff that controlled the jungle leading them, they made it to the Fantus village in the center of the jungle quickly. 

Fantus was a small village around a large temple. 

The temple was yellow stone, carved with a façade of the face of their deity, Fantus, and completely overgrown with vines from the jungle. Keldor knew from his research that the Moonfire Stones would be inside the temple, set in the eyes of a statue of Fantus. 

But it was not to the temple that the chief led them. 

Instead, he brought them to his own hut where a boy waited. 

“Merlo, these men are our guests.” The Chief announced. “Fetch them some water, please.”

From Keldor’s arm, Panthor gave his little desperate sounding rumbling meow that he was coming to recognize as the cub’s ‘feed me’ voice. 

“And some meat for my cat.” Keldor added. “If you have any.”

They sat down while the boy ran out on his errands. 

“You must love your father very much.” The Chief observed. “If you’re willing to break through the cursed mists of your island to come seeking aid on the mainland.”

The Fantus Chief, clearly, was not as quick at figuring out Keldor’s identity as that other Gar, Kronis, had been. Even though Raqquill already told him that Keldor was from Eternos, and there was only one Gar who lived in Eternos. King Miro’s half-Gar son, Prince Keldor. 

But then, why would the King’s son and heir be out trudging through the Vine Jungle when he could just order his soldiers to do it for him from the comfort of a velvet cushion? 

Sitting next to Keldor, Raqquill opened his mouth to correct him. This wasn’t just some Gar that managed to find a way off their cursed island. This was Prince Keldor! King Miro’s first born and future King of Eternia. And he did not sit idle on velvet cushions while sending others to do his bidding. 

But Keldor cut him off before he could. The fewer people who knew how bad King Miro’s health really was, the better. “My father raised my brother and I by himself.”

It was a true enough statement. 

“Ah.” The Chief nodded, knowing. “That is hard. Merlo is quite the handful just by himself, but your father had two boys to take care of. Must have been hard.”

Keldor thought of what it was like growing up in the palace of Eternos. Sleeping on silk sheets, wearing soft velvets and fine-spun linen, having the best tutors brought to his from across the planet, eating richly flavored cuisines, being given a never ending supply of novelties and entertainments to divert his attention when he was bored, not to mention the army of servants at beck and call so that his father didn’t have to do anything if Miro didn’t want to. 

“…Yes, so hard.” Keldor said out loud. 

Panthor made another one of his desperate and needy meows and Keldor reached into his pack for one of the bottles of formula. Raqquill advised weaning him off the bottle, but it wouldn’t hurt to give the little cub a snack while they waited for Merlo to get back.

The Chief watched the Dylinx cub nurse at the bottle, kneading at Keldor’s hand with his tiny paws. “That Dylinx is so comfortable with you. How long have you had him?”

“Since last night.” Keldor answered truthfully. In fact, it was less than twenty-four hours since he was attacked and killed the cub’s mother. 

“That’s all the time it takes.” Raqquill announced. 

Looking up from the cat in his arms, which Keldor had just realized he was smiling at like a fool, he glanced at the other two and shook his head. “Panthor isn’t my familiar. I’m just taking care of him until he can take care of himself. Then I’ll leave him back in the jungle where he belongs. I cannot take a pet with me on my quest.”

He turned his attention back to the cat in his lap. 

Both the Chief and the Beastmen exchanged a look over the Prince’s head. He could try and leave that cat in the jungle when he left. But the cat would not stay. 

Merlo returned with fresh water, cooked meat for Panthor, and sliced mango for their guests. 

Keldor pulled the bottle out of Panthor’s mouth and replaced it back in his pack -much to the cub’s loud and vocal protests. He took a bite of the meat and chewed it into a soft pulp, then spat it back out into his hand and offered that to the cub instead. Panthor’s complaints were quickly silenced as he went to town eating the real meat. 

The Chief took a slice of mango for himself. “When you’re rested, Merlo will show you through the jungle, so that you can continue on your quest.” He announced. “I hope you find what you’re looking for to help your father.”

Keldor looked up startled. “Is there nothing here in the jungle that could help?”

The Chief thought, then shrugged. “There are a number of plants that, when boiled into a tea, can ease muscle pain and sooth headaches.” 

“What of the Moodfire Stones?” Keldor pressed. That was the whole reason he came to the Vine Jungle in the first place. Otherwise he would have crossed the gentle waters and fast trade winds of the Harmony Sea to get to the Sands of Time instead. 

The Chief laughed. A soft chuckle at first, then growing into a roar. “The Moonfire Stones are the eyes of Fantus, and Fantus is a jungle goddess. She is the one that gives my staff the power to command the jungle. All the Moonfire Stones do is act as the conduit through which her power flows. I suppose you could use the stones to make the plants that sooth pain more potent. A drug for eternal sleep, perhaps? Or even a painless and merciful way to send your father on his Next Journey. But they have no healing power.”

Keldor just stared at the Chief. 

Three days lost in the Evergreen Forest, attacked by a falcon, attacked by a Dylinx, attacked by murderous vines and man-eating plants… and the Moonfire Stones he was trying so hard to get to were not what he needed. Keldor needed something that could restore youth and health. Not some sort of… ‘miracle grow’ that just made medicinal plants more potent. 

If Panthor weren’t still eating out of his hand, he would have balled them both into fists in his frustration. 

But he didn’t. Keldor called on his years of composure attending the court. Not showing any emotion. Face a stoic and impassive mask. Not giving away even a hint of his true disappointment and frustration. 

“I see.” He nodded. “Then I think you’re right. Once we’re done eating, we’ll leave.”

There were still other artifacts on his list. 

It was not a long list, but Eternia was a big planet. He had to keep moving if he was going to find one and still have enough time to get home to actually use it to heal father, before father… was gone on his Next Journey.


	8. Bit of Culture Shock

Logically, any alien planet would be an adjustment. Eternia might be populated by humans, among other peoples, but it was still an alien planet. 

Still, it was just close enough to her own, that when Marlena was confronted with something that was different, she got a very abrupt culture shock. 

Like when the tailors were fitting her for new, Eternian, clothing. Since they cut her off in order to heal her wounds, new clothes had to be made for her. The first fitting seemed straightforward enough. Height, arm span, bust, waist, hips, etc. No different than when she was fitted for her space suit. Then the tailor laid their measuring tape flat against one cheek of her ass, measuring on a slight diagonal, down from her hip and so the juncture between her thighs. 

“Whoah!” Marlena literally jumped away from them. “What’cha doing down there, buddy!?”

The tailor just looked impatient. As if Marlena were acting like a fidgety child. “The Prince has ordered me to make new cloths for you. I must take your measurements.”

“Since when does taking measurements include feeling me up?” She demanded. 

The tailor looked confused. “If you do not wish your leotard or loincloth to be form fitting I can make something with a drape instead.”

Once she actually got the clothing was another little culture shock. Not as invasive and dramatic as having her butt and crotch felt up. But still enough to throw her one and remind her that this was an alien planet with alien views on what was appropriate clothing, or how much of one’s body it was appropriate to expose. On Eternia, almost all of it seemed to just fine. 

They made two outfits for Marlena. One, a sleeveless leotard with a tall flared collar like something from the 70s and a very, very, very tiny skirt. Ballerinas and figure skaters wore skirts longer than it. It was so short! The second outfit was a two-piece ensemble that left most of her body exposed. A leather bra that was lined in white fur, with a matching loincloth that was basically a belt with fur trim and just two tiny rectangles of fabric dangling from it, one in the front to cover her crotch, the other in the back, just barely wide enough to cover her butt. 

She was about to be insulted and suspicious. If the Prince ordered these clothes made for her, then did he harbor any kind of lecherous feelings towards her? Did he plan to make her a concubine in his harem? (Did he even have a harem? Was that a thing on this planet?)

But then she noted that everyone kinda dressed slutty on this planet. 

The Prince himself walked around in a fur loincloth with his legs bare. His bodyguard, Duncan, did wear full coverage clothing, but it was skintight so that she could see every contour of every muscle in his body and didn’t leave much to the imagination. His uniform was basically just painted on. Dude might as well have been naked. That sorcerer who cast the spell that allowed her to understand their language -and did she have questions about that!- Count Marzo, just walked around without a shirt. All the time. He was nobility and just strutted around the palace in pants and a cape, tits out. 

Remembering that, Marlena made a conscious effort not to be insulted and selected the 70s-collar mini-dress because, of the two of them, that one covered more. 

The skirt did not completely cover her butt. Checking in the mirror, Marlena could very clearly see the bottoms of her butt-cheeks peeking out from under the hem of the skirt. 

But it was better than nothing, and it was what was acceptable apparel for this planet. (She assumed.) So, Marlena tried not to let it show how uncomfortable it made her, and exited her room. 

She was given free reign of the palace, and that was something she didn’t think was very smart of them. What if she were an enemy scout? What if she carried some alien virus that was previously unknown on the planet and they had no natural immunity to? If the situations were reversed and an Eternian had landed on Earth, they would keep said alien visitor locked up! Probably indefinitely. And that was another bit of culture shock for her. Eternian’s were much more trusting than Earthlings. 

Marlena walked through the halls and corridors of the palace without being stopped once. No one asked her where she was going, or if she was allowed out of her room. No one gave her suspicious looks as she passed. In fact, most of the people she passed smiled at her. Friendly, welcoming smiles, as if she belonged, as if she’d always been there before and nothing was out of place. 

And when she finally stopped someone to ask them for directions, they didn’t bat an eyelash or ask why.

“The Prince had your ship brought to the hanger where we keep our own vehicles.” They informed her. They were a servant, carrying a basket of freshly washed linens and wearing a uniform that had long sleeves and a high collar, but no fabric covering their chest, around their waist they wore a skirt instead of a loincloth. They shifted the basted in their arms, resting it on one hip, their uniform shirt riding up a bit to show a little thigh. With their now free hand, they pointed in the dictation Marlena wanted to go. “Follow this corridor down to the T-intersection, then make a left. You’ll see a lift. The hanger is on the second above ground level.”

Marlena followed the corridor and took the correct turn, she found the elevator and stepped inside. 

Then quickly learned that while that while the spell she was under allowed her to understand spoken language, it did not magically give her the ability to read the language or understand it’s numerals. Marlena stared at the elevator buttons, not knowing which was the correct one to press. The bare-chested servant specified ‘above ground’ level two. Which implied that there were basement floors. Which meant that just pushing the first button on the bottom of the panel might not get her to where she wanted to go. 

She stood there, in the elevator, staring at the buttons. 

Marlena didn’t know how long she was standing there. Long enough for another person who needed to use the lift to show up. 

They paused, startled to see her just standing there in an unmoving elevator, then smiled a friendly -if a little confused- smile. “May I help you with something?”

“Yes.” Marlena admitted. “I’m trying to get to the hanger. I’ve been told my shuttle is there.”

They pressed the correct button for her, and when the lift opened up on her floor, they also gave Marlena directions on how to find the hanger. 

Finally, after what felt like an entire morning wandering the palace, Marlena finally looked up at her shuttle. 

Much of it had been stripped down. It looked like the Eternians were taking it apart, trying to study how it worked. The exterior shielding was pulled up, showing the framework underneath. What of the outer hull was still there was very badly burned, scratched, and strained with dirt. She definitely crashed. 

“Amazing tech.” 

Marlena turned around to see that there was someone else in the hanger with her. 

One of the few Eternians she’d seen so far that wore clothing that provided full coverage. An all blue unitard. Long pants and long sleeved, all of it so tight it might as well have been painted on. Marlena could see every contour of every muscle in his legs and arms. And a fur loincloth on top of it, thankfully preventing Marlena from having to see every angle and shape of that part of him. Some things were better left to the imagination. He wore a pair of goggles over his eyes, to protect them from anything hazardous that might come off the alien ship. 

“I’m Orius.” He introduced himself, offering a hand. 

It was such a familiar earthling gesture, that Marlena put her hand out in return without even thinking. 

When Orius shook her arm, wrist to wrist instead of palm to palm, she was reminded that this was not her culture she was trying to navigate. 

“I’ve been studying this craft of yours.” Orius informed her. “Amazing technology. We haven’t even explored our planet’s moons yet, but this has traversed between stars. It’s incredible!”

“That you.” Marlena didn’t really know what to say to that. “I didn’t build it, I’m just the pilot.”

“Still, I’m sure you must be very knowledgeable about it to be able to pilot.” Orius insisted. 

Well, she was. It was all part of her training. Still, she didn’t feel like divulging NASA secrets to these alien natives. Even if they were really nice to her and didn’t appear to have any malicious intent. Marlena still felt a level of cautious that was just so earthling in nature that she couldn’t let go of it. 

“I’d really just like to get back to my own people.” She told him. “How soon can you put my ship back together so I can leave?”

“Oh, of course! You want to go home.” Orius nodded, as if this were something that hadn’t occurred to him before. “I can put it back together after I’m done studying it. The Prince wants to make sure we learn everything that can be learned from this vessel before we put it back together and send you away.”

That same earthling suspiciousness reared up in her and Marlena. Why did these aliens have to study her ship? They already said they had no space program of their own. Not even to their own moons. What purpose would they have in needing to examine an interstellar vessel? 

“What if I wanted to leave tomorrow?” She asked. 

“Well, I don’t think that would be possible.” Orius informed her sadly. “I wouldn’t be able to put everything back together by then. Besides, I would need Prince Randor’s permission anyway.”

“Then I’ll speak to Prince Randor.” Marlena concluded. She turned to leave; and got as far as the lift again before she turned back around and marched right back up to Orius. “I have no idea where he is, can you take me to him?”

…

The worst part about audiences was that, now that Keldor was gone, he couldn’t fall asleep during them anymore. No, that wasn’t true. The worst part about audiences was that he actually had to make decisions that affected other people’s lives and there was an almost suffocating pressure to make ‘the right’ decision. That was the worst part about audiences. The not being able to fall asleep was more a minor annoyance. 

But Randor had to keep doing them. It was one of the responsibilities of being King, and since he was acting in the place of the King, that made them one of his responsibilities too. 

He didn’t know how Keldor managed to sit through these. Randor’s lower back was aching, and he’d been suppressing the urge to yawn for at least the last two petitioners. 

Then the alien walked in and Randor’s discomforts were immediately forgotten. 

She looked worlds better than the last time he saw her. Her short red hair brushed to a shine, wearing Eternian clothing and boots. She looked right at home weaving her way through those gathered in the throne room. Moving with purpose, like she was accustomed to authority. Randor didn’t know how high a rank ‘Lieutenant’ was among her people, but she clearly had some kind of command before crashing on his world. 

And when Randor finished with the petitioner he was listening to before she walked in, she didn’t even wait for him to ask if there was anyone else who had a matter they wish to bring before the throne. 

Lieutenant Glenn just marched out into the middle of the room, pulling the back of her skirt down as she moved, and glared up at Randor. 

“You ordered my shuttle be taken apart.” She accused. 

“I did.” Randor confirmed. “I wanted the technology studied. We have hovercraft, but we’ve never left our planet’s atmosphere. I was hoping my scientists could understand your craft before you left.”

In the back of his head, he knew he should have found her aggressive hostility offensive. He was a Prince, acting in place of the King, petitioners were expected to show him the same level of respect they would show the true King. But for some reason, Marlena’s boldness tickled something in him. He liked it. He liked her. 

“Well, I want to leave as soon as possible. I want my shuttle put back together.” Marlena informed him. “And your mechanic says he won’t do that unless you tell him to. So, I want you to tell him to.”

Randor was irrationally disappointed that she wanted to leave his world so soon. He liked her. She was an alien on their world, but there was just something so very Eternian about her. Maybe it was the way she knocked Duncan’s feet out from under him and overpowered him in hand-to-hand grappling. Maybe it was how she did not seem intimidated by his status and the power it afforded him. Orius said her vessel was for exploration, so she was an explorer. But she was also a warrior. 

“I had hoped you would give us more time-“ he was going to say ‘together’, but Randor had only had one conversation with her and neither of them had really said much to each other, “-with your technology. But if you want to go home, I cannot stop you. Orius, how soon can you make Lieutenant Glenn’s craft ready for her departure?”

Orius stepped up next to Marlena. “I can put what I took apart back together quickly enough.” He assured the Prince. “No more than two days. But the damage from the crash will have to be repaired before the craft would be able to leave the planet, and that will take considerably more time. The vehicle’s armor will have to be completely remade.”

Randor nodded. He liked that answer. It meant Marlena would have to stay on Eternia longer. “Then we’ll make new armor for the craft. Lieutenant Glenn, can you provide Orius with schematics of what needs to be built?”

Marlena blinked. She wasn’t expecting the Prince to give her what she wanted with so little fuss. She thought she was going to have to argue her case and haggle for time. Instead, he just said, ‘go ahead and put the ship back together for her’. No earthling leader would ever be so accommodating or even trusting. 

An Earth leader would imprison the pilot and take the craft for themselves to study and weaponize. The pilot would be interrogated endlessly, and the craft pulled apart. But Randor didn’t even imply that he wanted to do those things. He just said, ‘boo I’m sad you’re not letting me play with your toy longer’. Were people on this planet just that… nice was the wrong word- naïve! Were people on Eternia just that naïve? Marlena could present a danger to them! (She didn’t. But they didn’t know that for sure!)

It was another big culture shock. 

That was too many culture shocks in one day. Marlena needed to retreat to her room and process the events of her short walk. Eternia was such a strange planet, she needed to think. 

To the Prince, she nodded. “Yes, there are hardcopy blueprints in the shuttle’s strong box, and if those are damaged the computer has digital copies.” A pause. “Assuming the computer was undamaged in the crash. I can show your scientist how to read them.”

“Good.” Randor smiled at her as if they old friends arguing over where to get dinner. “And you’ll provide me with a list of the materials you’ll need so I can send out for whatever ores or minerals you might need.”

“Uh… just aluminum, of you have it on this world.” Marlena informed him. Most NASA shuttles were primarily made of aluminum because it was light weight but also very study. “And titanium, if you have that too. Oh! And copper, for the wiring. Ya know what, I will write a list.”

Marlena turned to leave. 

“It is customary to wait until the Prince dismisses you!” Someone shouted at her retreating back. 

Marlena turned around to see the same bare-chested sorcerer who cast the language spell on her. Count Marzo, if she was remembering the name right. 

Marlena looked back up at Randor. 

“It’s fine, Marzo.” The Prince waved dismissively. “She doesn’t know our ways and could not have meant any disrespect. Lieutenant Glenn, you are dismissed if that is your wish.” Then he addressed the whole room, “Does anyone else have something they wish to bring before the throne?”

…

When the Prince said ‘you will provide me with a list’, she was expecting him to send a servant to pick up the document from her. 

She was not expecting Prince Randor to come to her room himself. 

When she opened the door after a tentative knock, she was momentarily startled. “Oh! It’s you. I mean… Your Majesty.”

“Highness.” He corrected her. “Majesty is for the King and I’m not King.”

Marlena didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that. So, she said nothing. 

Instead, she opened the door wider for him. “Did you want to come in, Your Highness?”

Briefly, her own learned instincts being a single woman in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people told her not to let him in. He was a strange man and Marlena did not know him. But her training reminded her that she was proficient in hand-to-hand combat, she was in the air force before she entered the space program, she was a soldier. He was royalty. A pampered Prince who probably grew up sheltered and insulated from anything bad. If he did try anything with her, Marlena was sure she could take him. (She certainly took down his bodyguard easily enough.)

Still, just in case, Marlena made a point of not closing the door behind him. 

He would not have privacy if he planned to do anything she did not want him to do. 

Randor, for his part, seemed not to notice the subtle action on her part. He stood just inside the room, fidgeted a little on his feet, before folding his hands behind his back awkwardly. If Marlena didn’t already know that he was the Prince of a whole planet, she would have thought he looked like a doe-eyed schoolboy. A doe-eyed schoolboy with the body of a Scandinavian supermodel and the facial hair of an Old Spice commercial. 

“I assume you came for the list you asked for.” Marlena announced, since he seemed confused about his intensions in coming to her room. 

“Yes.” Randor nodded. 

Marlena passed the paper to him, coming only close enough to be within her own arm’s reach. 

Randor took the paper without even looking at it. Opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “I’ll have someone from the office staff work on this right away.”

He left through the open door. 

Marlena was left feeling like that was rather anti-climactic. 

Then again, he might look human, but he was from an entirely different planet from her. Randor was essentially an alien. Maybe that was just how people acted on this planet. 

Randor didn’t even look at the paper she handed him until he was already in the lift. It was completely incomprehensible. Written in a language they did not have here on Eternia. Probably the ‘English’ Marlena mentioned. Her own language. Marzo’s spell might work on her ears and throat so that she spoke Standard Common, and heard English. But the spell did not extend to written language. 

As soon as the lift opened up again, Randor had to ride it back down to her floor and return to her room. 

Marlena looked even more confused to see him there a second time. 

By way of explanation, Randor held up the list she just gave him. “I can’t read this.” He announced. “Would you dictate it to me?”

For half a second, it looked like suspicion flashed behind her eyes. Randor could not imagine anything that might make her suspicious. But the expression was there and gone so fast that he wasn’t even sure he saw it right. But Marlena nodded and let him back in.

“Is this really a task someone as high ranked as a Prince should be doing?” She asked. 

“Probably not.” He admitted. “But I needed to get out of the office. I just can’t stand sitting all day. I donno how my brother does it!”

“Oh, you have a brother?” Marlena didn’t know why she was asking. She would be leaving as soon as her ship was repaired. He didn’t need to know this guy’s extended family tree and life story. 

“Yeah.” Randor nodded. “He’s actually supposed to be the one ruling while father is sick. But instead, he’s gone on this quest to find a magical item to heal father, and he’s stuck me with the responsibility to ruling while he’s gone. Don’t tell anyone else this, but I am barely holding things together and it’s only been a week.”

That did explain a little of his awkwardness. Prince Randor didn’t actually know what he was doing. His brother was the real world-leader. Randor was just the weekend fill-in. 

It also explained why he was so willing to let her and her technology go. Less work for him to do. Marlena was lucky Randor was the one in charge when she crashed. The brother might not be so accommodating. 

“So, uh, the list.” She reminded him. “I can dictate if you write.”

“Right!” That was the whole reason he came back to her room. Not to complain about Keldor’s leaving. Randor flipped over the page he already held and wrote on the back on Marlena’s list. “Ready whenever you are.”


End file.
